Ever After
by Chelles
Summary: And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. - Anais Nin
1. Prologue

A/N: And so begins the next part of Grissom and Sara's journey! I'd like to thank you for joining me for the trip. If you're new to my work, please know that this is the fourth story in a series I began with "Fairytales," and followed with "Chasing the Rainbow's End" and "And They Lived Happily." I'm going to suggest, but not insist, that you read them in order.

Thank you for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoy this story!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Prologue_

_Gil, age 8_

"Gil? Mom's looking for you, little man."

Gil dropped the worms that were wriggling in his hand back into the garden soil. "I'm right here," he said.

"Yeah, I can see that," his father replied with a smile. "But, Mom can't. Go inside and see what she wants. She's in our bedroom."

Gil nodded and jumped up to go inside, wiping his hands on his jeans as he walked. As his father had promised, his mother was in the master bedroom, searching through her jewelry box. He put a hand on her arm to alert her to his presence. She turned to him with worried eyes and immediately began signing.

"_Gil, there you are! I can't find Grandma's ring. Have you seen it?"_

Gil frowned. _"The diamond one?"_

"_Yes, the diamond one."_

"_I've seen it."_

"_Where?"_

"_I gave it to Nicole."_

"_Nicole? Your friend Nicole?"_

"_Yes."_

Mrs. Grissom's expression was somewhere between bewildered and murderous. _"Gil. Why?"_

"_Because I asked her to marry me, and she said yes. I had to give her a ring, and you always said that I could give Grandma's ring to the girl I marry."_

Mrs. Grissom closed her eyes and counted to ten. _"Gilbert Grissom, you are eight years old! You are not getting married for at least twenty years – thirty, if I have anything to say about it! Go get that ring back from Nicole!"_

"_Mom! It's her engagement ring!"_

"_Not yet, it's not. Get it back, Gilbert. NOW."_

Shoulders slumping in defeat, Gil turned from his mother. He had only taken two steps when her hand was on his shoulder, turning him back. She gave him a gentle smile.

"_You'll get married someday, Gil. Just not yet."_

"_When?"_

"_When you're older."_

"_But, I don't want to wait. Nicole is fun, and she likes bugs. She'd be a good wife."_

Amusement danced in his mother's eyes. _"I'm sure she would be, honey. When you're older."_

Gil sighed. Why did adults always have to say that? He didn't want to wait to do things. It wasn't fair.

"_I'll get the ring back, Mom. But, can I give it back to her someday?"_

"_If she is the girl you marry – yes. If not, you'll save it for the one who is."_

* * *

_Sara, age 6_

"Okay, Sara, are you ready to help me get ready?"

Sara nodded as her aunt came into the bedroom wearing a bathrobe. "Where is Dave taking you tonight?"

"To the symphony," Liz replied, sitting down at her vanity.

"What's that?" Sara asked, getting up off the bed to stand closer to watch her aunt put on her makeup.

"It's a fancy concert. You have to get very dressed up to go, and you watch people play instruments. They make beautiful music." She picked up a bottle of foundation.

"Oh," Sara said, watching her aunt shake the bottle and pour a little onto the back of her hand. "Why are you using that?"

"It evens out my skin tone."

"Oh." Sara frowned, watching her apply the makeup.

"You look confused, sweetie."

"It's just … Mommy only uses that when she's covering up black and blue marks. You don't have any."

Liz put the bottle down so fast it nearly fell over. She turned to look at Sara, grabbing her by the shoulders. "Sara. What are you talking about?"

Sara's eyes widened in fear. "I'm sorry, Aunt Liz! I didn't mean – please don't –"

"Sara!" Liz exclaimed, releasing her, realizing she had nearly scared her to death. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you. I just … Sara, honey, do you watch Mommy put on makeup?"

"All the time," Sara said in a little voice. "When Daddy makes her black and blue, she uses foundation. When he doesn't, she doesn't need it."

Liz bit her lip. "Daddy shouldn't make her black and blue, Sara. He shouldn't hit her. Dave doesn't hit me."

Sara frowned, thinking about what she had said, trying to make sense of it. "That's because you're not married," she said at last. "Only husbands make their wives black and blue. Boyfriends don't do that to their girlfriends."

"Sara …"

"I'm not going to get married," Sara said as Liz's voice trailed off. "Not ever. I don't want to have a husband. I'd rather just have a boyfriend. That way I won't ever have to put on foundation to cover black and blue marks."

Tears filled Liz's eyes and she grabbed Sara again, crushing her to her.

"Hey, girls," Laura said as she walked into Liz's bedroom. "Sara, we need to get home and let Aunt Liz get ready for her date with Dave."

"Laura," Liz said, releasing her niece, "why don't you and Sara stay here?"

"Why?" Laura asked, frowning in confusion. "You have plans. We'll see you another time."

"No, I just …" She looked at Sara. "Sweetie, can you go get my red purse from the hall closet?"

"Sure." Sara skipped off.

"What's going on, Lizzie?"

"Sara knows," Liz said. "She knows Malcolm hits you, and she knows what you do to cover the bruises."

"Yeah," Laura said, pain creeping into her eyes. "I know."

"Laura! You've got to get her out of there! You can't let her grow up like that!"

"I can't just take her and leave," Laura said. "It would kill Malcolm to lose her! He loves that little girl … and, he loves me. He's a good man, Liz. He just has a temper, that's all."

"Laura, she just told me she's never going to get married because husbands hit wives. Do you really think this is a good environment for her?"

"She's fine, Liz," Laura said, a closed expression coming over her face. "She's fine, and I'm fine, and we're going to go home now to let you get ready for your date. Have fun with Dave."

"Here it is, Aunt Liz."

"Thanks, sweetie," Liz said, taking the purse from Sara. She looked up at Laura. "So, that's it, then?"

"We'll see you later, Lizzie. Tell Dave we said hello."

Liz watched as her sister took her niece by the hand and walked out of her bedroom. She had never been so afraid.

* * *

_Gil, age 30_

"How are you feeling?"

"Nervous as hell," Carl said, pausing his pacing steps from one side of the room to the other. He looked at his watch. "How can we possibly still have fifteen minutes to wait?"

Gil grinned. "Because it is impossible to control time."

"Some best man you are! Aren't you supposed to be distracting me right now?"

"Okay. Fine. What do you want me to do, recite the periodic table?"

"No. I'm the chemist, not you."

Gil sighed. "Carl, why are you so nervous? You've been in love with Amy since you met her. You've been engaged for a year. You're supposed to be excited right now."

"I know," Carl said. "And, I am excited. Really, really excited. I just … I can't believe this is really happening. God, I feel like such a girl."

Gil laughed. "You're getting married in ten minutes, Carl. You're allowed to feel like a girl."

Carl laughed with him. "Promise me something."

"Anything."

"Amy must never find out that we both just called me a girl."

Gil laughed again. "You've got it."

"Ah, thanks, Gil," Carl said, slapping him on the back. "Not just for that, but for everything. I can't wait to do this all for you someday."

"What?"

"Be your best man."

Gil shook his head. "I'm not getting married, Carl."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I'm not getting married."

"Why not?"

A pained expression crossed his face. "After what happened with Rebecca, I just don't think I'm cut out for marriage. I'm too devoted to science and my work. I can't ask a woman to take second place to that, but I'm not sure I'd be able to offer her more."

Carl shook his head. "You need to realign your priorities, my friend."

"I just don't think I can." He smiled. "Carl, today is about you and Amy. Don't think about me."

"Gentlemen?" The wedding coordinator stuck her head into the room. "It's time."

Gil grinned at his friend. "Come on, Carl. Let's go let Amy make an honest man out of you."

Carl grinned back. "Yeah. I'm ready to get married."

* * *

_Sara, age 13_

"Do you want to look in this store, Sara?"

Sara looked at her watch. It was dangerously close to six o'clock. "Do we have time?"

Nancy glanced at her own watch. "Sure. Steve won't mind if we're a little late, and I'd love to see you in that top. I think it would be great for picture day."

When Nancy, her new foster mother, had proposed a back to school shopping expedition, Sara had never anticipated that it would take their entire Saturday. But, Steve, her foster father, had already planned to go fishing with his friends, and had told them to have fun. He had promised to be home by six, which, in Sara's experience, meant that dinner needed to be ready by six.

"But …"

"But, what, honey?" Nancy asked. "Really, I think that the green top would be very pretty on you."

Sara knew better than to argue with an adult. "Okay."

Nancy was right; the top was very pretty. Sara liked it, Nancy liked it, and even the salesgirl said she had to have it. So, they bought the top and added it to the collection of clothes Sara was amassing for school. She was sure she had never had so many new things for the beginning of the year before.

"Are you sure I need this many clothes?" she asked as they walked back to the car.

"Yes, I'm sure," Nancy said firmly. "We already got you everything you'll need for your classes, so we know you'll be well-prepared to learn. With your new clothes, you'll look so pretty, too."

Sara nodded. "It wasn't too much, was it?"

"Not at all. Don't worry about the money for a minute."

Sara nodded, but couldn't stop worrying. She remembered the day her mother had taken her shopping for a new pair of shoes. They had decided to get two pairs because the store was having a "buy one, get one half off" sale. Her father had been so angry when they had come home with more than intended. Her mother had had to wear a sling while her dislocated shoulder healed.

It was nearly seven o'clock by the time they pulled into the driveway, and Sara was terrified. Steve's car was already there, as she had anticipated. Nancy, sensing the tension in Sara, turned to look at her.

"Are you okay, Sara?"

"Fine," she squeaked.

Nancy frowned. "Are you sure?"

"It's just … I thought we'd be home earlier, that's all."

"Oh," Nancy said. "Well, don't worry about it. It's not a school night yet. We don't need to get you to bed early."

Sara nodded and followed her into the house. Steve heard them coming in and came out of the living room to meet them in the foyer. Sara held her breath.

"Hi, ladies," he said with a smile. "How was your shopping trip?"

"Great," Nancy said enthusiastically. "We got Sara an entire fall wardrobe."

Steve grinned. "Did you have fun, Sara?"

She nodded.

"Good. Do you have more in the car?"

"Just a couple bags."

"I'll get them for you."

Steve disappeared into the driveway, and Sara slowly released her breath. He didn't seem angry… She was so confused.

"Well," Nancy said, "I suppose we should think about dinner."

"How about we order a pizza?" Steve suggested as he came in the door with the last of the bags. "You've had a busy day, and I'm sure you're tired."

Nancy smiled at Sara, then looked at Steve. "I don't see you volunteering to cook. Shouldn't we have some fresh fish?"

"We could, if anything had been biting," he replied. "I'll order the pizza."

"Okay. Sara, let me help you put all these things away."

Sara nodded and followed Nancy to her bedroom. They each took a bag and began pulling clothes out of it.

"What's wrong, Sara?" Nancy asked. "You were so animated this morning, but now …"

Sara bit her lip, then asked her question in a rush. "Is he always like that?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Steve. Is he always so … understanding?"

"Sara, honey, I'm confused. What do you mean? Understanding about what?"

"We were late," Sara said. "He said he'd be home at six, but we weren't here and we didn't have dinner on the table and we spent more than we had said and –"

"Sara," Nancy said, holding up her hands to stop the flow of words as she realized what had Sara so scared. "Come here."

Sara sat down next to her on the bed and looked at her.

"Steve is a wonderful husband," Nancy said. "He'd never get angry at me for being out later than I said or not getting his dinner for him or spending more than I said I would. And, even if he did get angry with me, he'd _never_ hit me. Or you. _Never_."

"Never?" Sara repeated.

"No," Nancy affirmed. "Honey, I've been married to that man for twenty years, and never once has he raised a hand to me. We love each other like crazy, and we work together to keep our marriage strong. We're partners, Sara. Equals. No one has the upper hand, no one is in control, and no one gets violent. Violence doesn't have any place in a good marriage."

"I thought …"

"I know you love your parents," she said. "And, I hope that one day, you'll be able to live with your mother again. But, Sara, you need to understand that theirs was not a good or a healthy marriage. It's no way for anyone to live, and it's no life for a little girl to see like you did. I know your mother wouldn't want you to have a marriage like hers."

"I'm not getting married," Sara said. "I don't want …"

"If you don't get married, that's fine," Nancy said gently. "But, if you do … I hope it can be to a man like Steve. I know you'd be happy with a good husband, Sara."

Sara nodded slowly, processing all Nancy was saying. Maybe …

"Nancy! Sara! The pizza's here!"

"Come on, honey," Nancy said, standing up and pulling Sara to her feet. "Let's go have some pizza. We can finish putting your clothes away later."

Slightly dazed by all she had learned, Sara followed Nancy to the kitchen. Maybe Nancy was right. Maybe there were other men like Steve. Maybe the way she had lived wasn't the norm. Maybe …

Maybe.


	2. Novelty

A/N: Thank you so much for your wonderful response to the first chapter! I hope you like this one as much – this is where the "real" story starts.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI or "School's Out."

* * *

_Novelty_

"Okay, Sara, are you ready?"

"_Beyond_ ready," she said, her eyes shining with excitement.

Dr. Rogers grinned at her, and began the process of removing her cast.

* * *

"Hi!"

Grissom looked up from his magazine to see Sara waving at him with her left hand. His eyes lit up.

"Look at you!" he said, putting the magazine aside and crossing the waiting room to join her. "Good as new."

"Not even close," she said with a laugh. "Dr. Rogers is waiting to give me instructions until you're there to hear them, too." She led him back to the room where her doctor waited. "Incidentally, the two of you need to stop treating me like a four-year-old with this whole 'Dr. Grissom will want to hear the instructions, too' thing."

"Well, dear, if I thought for a minute you'd tell me the truth about the instructions, I wouldn't insist."

Sara made a face at him. Grissom laughed.

"I'm back," she said as they joined Dr. Rogers. "And, I found my caretaker."

Dr. Rogers smiled and shook his head. "How's the arm feeling after a few minutes without a cast?" he asked.

Sara considered his question. "Tired."

Dr. Rogers nodded. "Okay, Miss Sara, here's what you're going to do for the next few weeks. I want you to wear the brace and to use the sling for two weeks, at which point you'll see me and we'll decide if we need to continue with them. I'm prescribing you more pain medication, which you can take as you need. And, you'll need to attend physical therapy three times a week."

"Oh, is that all?"

"Sara," Grissom said with a smile, "I don't think that sarcasm will help your recovery."

"It's making me feel better," she said, winking at him.

Grissom shook his head. "She's going back to work tomorrow," he told the doctor. "Any restrictions?"

"As long as the brace and the sling stay on, I'm happy," he said. "If you can't do it in a sling, don't do it."

"I think I can handle that," Sara said.

"Good. In that case, I'll see you in two weeks. Talk to Jeannie on your way out to make you next appointment."

"Thanks, Dr. Rogers."

"You're welcome."

Dr. Rogers left the room, and Sara grinned at Grissom.

"Do you have any idea how _free_ I feel right now?"

"I can take a guess," he said with a smile. "I believe this calls for a celebration. What would you like to do?"

Sara cocked her head to the side thoughtfully. "I want Mexican."

"Mexican food?"

"Yeah."

"At ten in the morning?"

"Perfect dinner time," Sara said with a grin. "And, you know that Roberto's is already open and serving."

"Okay," Grissom agreed. "To Roberto's."

* * *

_No more teachers, no –_

Sara's hand shot out to turn off her alarm. She rolled over to see Grissom stirring.

"Go back to sleep," she murmured, brushing a kiss against his forehead.

He mumbled something incoherent and rolled over. Within seconds, he was in a deep sleep.

Sara stared at the ceiling for a moment, contemplating what she was doing. The idea that she was about to get out of bed alone, get ready for work alone and leave for the lab alone was slightly daunting. _Damn you, Ecklie …_

Knowing that lying in bed wasn't doing anything other than delaying the inevitable, Sara finally pulled herself out of bed and to the bathroom. Maybe a shower would help her brighten her attitude.

After her shower, Sara moved around the bedroom with the stealth of a spy, trying to be as quiet as possible. The last thing she wanted to do was to wake Grissom. With her move to swing, he was down one CSI; she knew that could easily translate into more doubles for him. He needed what little sleep he could get.

Once she was dressed, Sara went to the kitchen for a quick breakfast. She was immediately accosted by the dog, who was quite excited to see her awake. She grinned and filled his bowl with kibble.

"If I'm having breakfast, you are, too, right?" she said.

Hank shoved past her and buried his face in his bowl. Giggling, Sara straightened up to pour herself a glass of juice.

After finishing her breakfast, she returned to the bedroom for her shoes and bag.

"Hi."

Sara gasped and spun around. Grissom was sitting up in bed, laughing at her reaction.

"I know my hair doesn't look its best right now, but I didn't think I was actually _frightening_."

"I was trying not to wake you," Sara said with a rueful smile. "I thought I was being quiet."

"You were incredibly quiet," Grissom said. "But, it was very lonely in this big bed all by myself. That made it hard to sleep."

Sara smiled and leaned over to kiss him. "It does feel strange, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," he agreed. "We're going to miss you tonight."

"I'll miss you, too."

"Aren't you excited to go back to work?"

"I am," she said. "I'm not very good at sitting around the house."

"Agreed."

Sara wrinkled her nose. "You didn't need to agree."

Grissom tapped her nose with his finger and grinned. "I'll find you when I get to work tonight. I want to know how you're doing."

Sara raised an eyebrow. "Mothering me?"

"No. I just want to hear how the new shift is."

"Griss …"

"Okay, I get it. You don't want Dad cramping your style with your new friends."

"Grissom!"

He laughed. "I'm kidding. Just … find me before you leave for home, okay? Say goodbye."

"I can do that." Sara looked at the clock. "I need to get out of here if I don't want to be late for my very first day of swing."

"Point made," Grissom said, leaning back. "Good luck, Sara."

"Thanks," she said. "Good night, Griss."

He yawned. "Good night."

* * *

Sara drew a deep breath as she walked through the doors of the lab. It was so different to walk in so early in the day. Judy wasn't at the desk yet. Members of the day shift were still in the lab, finishing various projects. Sunlight filtered in through the windows.

Sara smiled as she stepped through a patch of sunlight on her way down the hall. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to work earlier in the day.

She made her way to her new supervisor's office. Doug Reynolds was sitting behind his desk reviewing lab results when she knocked on the open door. He looked up and smiled.

"Sara. Come on in."

She returned the smile and stepped into his office.

"Have a seat."

Sara nodded and sat down across his desk from him, trying not to think of the number of times she had sat across Grissom's desk from him.

"Welcome to swing shift," he said with a smile. "I know that you're not exactly coming to us under ideal circumstances, but, honestly, I'm thrilled to have you. We've been shorthanded for over a year now, and Ecklie's moved like molasses to get me new CSIs. Shocking, I know."

Sara giggled at that. "Well, I'm glad to be able to help."

"I talked to Grissom and Catherine about you the other day," Doug said. "They both tell me that you're an outstanding CSI."

Sara flushed slightly.

"They also tell me that you mentored Greg Sanders."

"That's right." Sara smiled, thinking of how much fun she and Greg had had together.

"You enjoyed doing that?"

"I did," Sara agreed. "It was fun to watch him learn the job. And, Greg's a great guy. He made a perfect partner."

"I'm glad you feel that way," Doug said. "I was hoping that you'd be willing to mentor a new CSI we have coming in."

"Oh," Sara said in surprise. "Sure."

"Great," Doug said, looking relieved. "Her name is Veronica Lake –"

"You're kidding, right?"

Doug grinned. "No. Some parents are so cruel, don't you think?"

"Yeah," Sara said, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. Continue."

"Right. Well, Veronica is coming to us straight out of college. I interviewed her after Ecklie did. She's incredibly bright, full of energy – bubbly, almost."

"So, nothing like me," Sara deadpanned.

"Well, I've heard you're fairly smart," Doug replied, winking at her. "Anyway, like I said, she's got a lot going for her, but she's brand new to our line of work. None of my people have ever mentored a new CSI before, and since Grissom and Catherine were so excited about what you did with Greg, I really thought you'd be the natural choice for this."

"I'd like to do it," Sara said.

"Good," Doug said. "It's not that I don't trust my guys, it's just … I've been shorthanded for a year, Sara. I really don't want to lose this girl. I'd rather have someone with experience teach her how we operate."

"Doug, really, I'm sold," Sara said with a smile. "Stop trying to inflate my ego to make me want to help her."

He smiled. "I'm sorry. I was really afraid I'd have to talk you into it."

"Totally unnecessary. How long has she been with us?"

"Today is her first day, actually."

"Wow," Sara said, her eyes widening. "She really _is_ a newbie."

"Is that –?"

"It's fine!" Sara exclaimed before he could ask the question.

Doug laughed. "Point made, Sara, point made. Can you hang out here for a little bit? She's supposed to come straight here when she gets in."

"Sure."

Doug rifled through the papers on his desk for a moment before picking up assignment slips. Apparently, his organization rivaled Grissom's. "Ah, here we go. I'm going to give you girls an easy one today, since Veronica's just starting – smash and grab."

"I think we can handle that," Sara said, taking the assignment slip from him.

He winked. "I assumed it wouldn't be a problem."

"Hey, boss. What do you have for us?"

Doug looked up at the two men who entered the room together. "Hi, guys," he said. "This is Sara Sidle, our newest team member. Sara, this is Jason Roberts and this is Phil Daley."

"Hi, Sara," they said in unison.

"Hello," she replied.

"I'll tell you, I'm glad to see you here," Jason said. "We've been shorthanded forever. Even Catherine complained about it when she ran the show, and we had two more people then."

"And, we had that revolving door after she left," Phil added. "Doug's awesome, though. He brought a lot of stability to the shift."

Sara nodded politely.

"I'm sending you two off on a double," Doug said, handing Jason an assignment slip. "I've got a homicide at the Tangiers, but if you need back up, let me know. I'll come over if I can."

"What's Sara doing?" Phil asked.

"Training the new girl," Doug replied. "They're going on a smash and grab."

"Easy first night," Jason said, grinning at her.

"I'll take them while I can," Sara said with a smile.

"Hi, excuse me … I'm looking for Doug Reynolds?"

"You've found him," Jason said, backing out of the small office. He looked at the pretty girl and exchanged a grin with Phil. "We'll just get to work, boss."

"Keep me updated," Doug said as the two men left, both wearing identical grins.

Sara felt a bit uneasy with the way they had looked at their new colleague, but pushed it aside. She was probably over-reacting. Years of working with the exceptionally polite men of the graveyard shift had made her forget what male coworkers could be like around younger women.

"Veronica, come in," Doug said, giving her a smile. "This is Sara Sidle. She's going to be your mentor."

"Hi," Sara said, extending a hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"You, too. And, call me Ronnie. Everyone does."

"Ronnie," Sara repeated. "Got it."

"I'm sending you ladies out in the field tonight," Doug said. "You're going to investigate a smash and grab at a jewelry store in the mall."

"Oo!" Ronnie's eyes lit up. "I love jewelry!"

Sara's eyebrows shot up. "Well, I hope that helps us recover some of it," she said.

Doug looked down to hide his smile. "Well, ladies, I won't keep you. Sara, could you give Ronnie a tour of the lab before you leave?"

"Of course," she said. "I'll see you later, Doug."

"Bye," Ronnie said as she and Sara left the office together.

"Okay," Sara said. "So, did you find the locker room yet?"

"No," Ronnie said. "I have a locker number, though. It was in my packet."

"Okay. I'll get you set up there first, then we'll tour the rest of the lab."

"Great! Have you worked here long?"

"About eight years."

"Oh, wow! So, you like it?"

"I do."

"That's good to know. All my professors in college said that if the other CSIs have been with the lab a long time, it's a good sign."

"That's one way to look at it."

"So, have the others been here long?"

"You'd have to ask them," Sara said. She sighed. Being snippy wasn't going to do her any good, and Ronnie's enthusiasm wasn't really a _bad_ thing. "Most of us have been here for years," she said.

"Have you always worked swing? I'm afraid the hours will be a tough adjustment. I mean, I just came from college, so I should be used to staying up, right? But, I'm used to staying up to go out, not to work. Wait, I didn't mean that like it sounded! I did really well in all my classes and –"

"Here's the locker room," Sara said, directing her inside.

"Oh, great. Here's my locker."

Sara watched as she deposited her things.

"I didn't think to bring a lock," she said. "Do you think it'll be a problem?"

"No," Sara said. "We're a very honest group." She was fairly certain that Nick had never had a lock on his locker, and had yet to lose anything

"Good. One less thing to worry about. So, we're going to the mall?"

"Lab tour first," Sara said. "We'll leave for the scene as soon as we're done here."

"Shouldn't we hurry?"

Sara shrugged. "The detectives will be interviewing the employees and witnesses for awhile, and it won't take us that long to get there – or to tour the lab. No worries."

"You're the boss."

Sara pursed her lips to hide her smile. "I'll show you the DNA lab first."

* * *

At the end of a very exhausting shift, they had found some of the stolen jewelry in a pawn shop, but had not yet found their thief. Sara sent Ronnie home, telling her that they could work more on the case the next day.

"Thank you, Sara, so much," Ronnie said. "You've been great. I think we're going to have a lot of fun working together."

"You're welcome," Sara said. "I'll see you later. Make sure you get some sleep."

Ronnie grinned. "I will. Bye, Sara!"

"Bye."

Sara watched as Ronnie walked out, then, shaking her head, walked to Grissom's office. He was sitting at his desk, but looked up with a smile when she knocked on his open door.

"Hey," he said. "How was your first night of swing shift?"

"Exhausting," Sara said.

"Well, aside from adjusting to new hours, you're not used to working," Grissom said as she sank into a chair in front of his desk.

"It wasn't just that," she said. "Doug's got me training this new girl – level 1 – who truly doesn't ever stop talking. I think _she's_ what has me so tired."

Grissom laughed. "My poor Sara."

She shook her head. "Your sympathy is truly underwhelming."

"How does your arm feel?" Grissom asked, changing the subject.

"A little sore," she acknowledged.

"You kept it in the sling all night?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, _Mom_."

"Point taken," Grissom said, holding up his hands. His eyes softened. "I'm sorry, Sara. I worry about you."

"Well, don't," she said. "I'm fine, Griss. My arm is still healing, but it's going to be fine."

"I know."

"Good."

He hesitated for a moment. "And … everything else?"

"Everything else?"

"The new shift?"

She smiled a bittersweet smile. "It's … different. But, I think I can get used to it."

"Even to your new trainee?" Grissom asked with a mischievous smile.

"Yes, even to her," Sara said, smiling back. "I'm sure she's just excited about her first job. She really is a nice girl. Just … exuberant."

Grissom glanced at the clock on his desk. "I hate to cut this short, honey, but I have to get to the morgue for an autopsy."

"No, it's fine. I'm tired anyway. I just sort of want to go home and sleep."

Grissom nodded as they both stood up. "I'll try to be home on time."

They stepped out into the hallway together.

"I'll try to be awake by the time you get there," Sara said.

He smiled. "I'll see you when I see you, Sara."

"I'll see you when I see you."


	3. A New Kind of Normal

A/N: As I'm sure you've guessed, I'm back in school, so we're back to weekend updates. Not that I managed much more than that this summer anyway.

I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thanks for reading and reviewing.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episode 803, "Go to Hell."

* * *

_A New Kind of Normal_

Grissom walked into the house quietly. After putting down his keys and hanging up his coat, he stepped into the living room. His eyes softened at the sight of Sara asleep on the couch. For the week that she had been back at work, she had tried desperately every day to stay awake long enough to welcome him home. Every day, she had fallen asleep on the couch.

Grissom crossed to her and gently kissed her cheek. Sara stirred slightly.

"Sara, honey, wake up," Grissom said softly. "You'll be more comfortable in bed."

Sara's eyes slowly opened and focused on his face. "What time is it?"

"Almost ten," he replied.

She nodded and rolled to a sitting position. "I'm sorry, Gil. I wanted to be awake when you came home."

"I know, Sara, and that's very sweet, but maybe … maybe you should just go to bed when you're tired. That way you'll get enough sleep – proper sleep. We can spend time together when we're both awake."

Sara nodded. "You might be right."

"I am."

She smiled slightly. "Just because you're a supervisor doesn't mean you're always right."

Grissom chuckled. "Duly noted. Come on, let's go to bed."

Sara held out her hand. "Help me up?"

Grissom pulled her to her feet and kissed her. Sara smiled against his lips.

"What was that for?"

"I needed my good morning kiss."

Sara's smile morphed into a grin. "Come on, sexy. Like you said, we need to go to bed."

* * *

"So, why did you decide to become a CSI?"

Sara looked across the break room table at Ronnie, putting down her pen slowly. "Because I wanted to help people," she said at last. "I wanted to find justice for the victims of crime."

Ronnie nodded thoughtfully. "I wanted to work in law enforcement, but my dad said I was too smart to be a cop," she said. "And, I've always been a science geek."

Sara smiled slightly. "Around here, everyone is."

Ronnie grinned. "CSI combines the two, and keeps my dad happy."

"Hey, girls, I've got a case for you," Doug said as he joined them. "Grave found a DB in a garbage heap outside the perimeter of one of their cases. It doesn't seem suspicious, but we need to give it a look."

"Right," Sara said, taking the assignment slip. "Thanks, Doug."

"Hey, it's why I'm here," he said. "Let me know how it goes."

"We will." She turned to Ronnie. "Get your kit. I'll meet you at the car."

"You've got it."

* * *

"It's a pretty day," Ronnie said, staring out the window as Sara drove them to the scene. "Did you get to spend some time outside before work?"

"A bit," Sara replied. "I took my dog for a walk."

"You have a dog? Cool! I love dogs. What kind do you have?"

"A boxer."

"Oh, those are cute. We had a collie when I was little. My brother picked her out. My parents wanted a show dog, but we never showed her. We played with her all the time, though. I'm thinking about getting a dog now that I'm settled here. I made sure my building allows pets when I signed my lease. Is it hard to take care of your dog with the hours we keep?"

"We have a really good sitter who takes him when we're working too long," Sara said, her head spinning slightly from all information Ronnie had given her at a very rapid pace.

"Oh, that's a good idea! Is he with the sitter now, or at home?"

"At home."

"Is Dr. Grissom home with –" Ronnie stopped her question abruptly, her face flushing bright red. "I'm sorry. Are we at that point where we can talk about our personal lives? I've heard that you're really private about your relationship."

Sara sighed. "I prefer to keep my private life private. But, I know that I'm half of the lab gossip right now, so I will confirm that I am dating Grissom," she conceded.

"That's so cool," Ronnie said. "I mean, not the gossip part – I'd hate to be the one everyone's talking about! But, I mean it's cool that you're dating Dr. Grissom. He's so highly respected in the forensic and academic communities. We used one of his books in one of my classes in college."

"We'll have to park here," Sara said, pulling the SUV to a stop. "They've got the rest of the street taped off."

"Why? I thought Doug said it wasn't suspicious circs."

Sara shrugged. "We'll find out."

Officer Mitchell, one of Sara's favorite uniforms, was waiting for them at the scene.

"Hi, Sara," he said with a smile.

"Hey," she said. "Officer Mitchell, have you met Ronnie? She's new to the lab."

"Hi, Ronnie," he said, shaking her hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"You, too," she said, giving him her characteristic grin.

"Who's he?" Sara asked, nodding toward their body.

"John Doe, for the moment. The coroner is en route."

"Busy night," Sara commented, surprised they had beat the coroner. "Doug said he was found last night?"

"Right," Officer Mitchell agreed. "Grave found him. We're finally getting to him now. It wasn't suspicious circs, so …"

"Right," Sara said. "Okay, Ronnie, let's start some photos."

"All set," Ronnie said, her camera already in her hands.

Sara crouched down next to the body, shining her flashlight on it while Ronnie snapped pictures.

"Green bloat stage … He's been here at least eighteen hours," Sara said, thinking that it tallied with her former teammates finding the body during their last shift.

"Did you ever wonder why ants don't crawl up the nose and eat the brains?" Ronnie asked, watching the ants race over the body she was photographing.

Sara looked up at her as she crouched down to get a better angle.

"I would," she said with a slight shrug. "Protein."

"Ants are scavengers; they tend to stay on the surface," Sara said, thinking that she might as well dispense the knowledge she had gleaned during her time dating Grissom. Ronnie already knew they were together; she wouldn't question Sara's Grissom-like awareness of insects.

"Think dead skin tastes better than brains?"

"Well, they will go for brains late in decomp, after all the skin is gone," Sara said. She knew she wasn't really answering the question, but, honestly, did Ronnie think that she'd know how dead skin tasted to an ant? _Dating_ an entomologist did not _make_ her an entomologist. She wondered in a vague sort of way if even Grissom could answer that question.

Ronnie frowned slightly, still stuck on the idea of the taste of dead skin. "Do ants have taste buds?"

"Ronnie."

She looked up from her photos.

"I am going to have to limit you to twenty questions per case," Sara said.

"Really?" Ronnie asked, a bit of fear creeping into her voice.

"Nineteen," Sara said, hiding her smile.

Their eyes met; Ronnie was the first to break eye contact. Sara looked down, feeling only slightly remorseful. Ronnie needed to learn to act like a grown up – and, Sara needed to preserve her sanity.

"Hey, Sara."

Sara's face lit up as she stood up. "Hey! Jim!"

Brass gave her a wide smile. "So, enjoying the sunshine?" he asked.

"Not really," Sara replied, wondering how she possibly could with Ronnie's incessant questions and enthusiasm and – "DB is a derelict," she said, interrupting her own thoughts. "I'm surprised to see you investigating this."

"Oh, I'm not working this; I'm working the double homicide over at the Rancho Center Motel. We're just doing a neighborhood sweep for suspects."

Ronnie stood and stepped closer. Jim smiled at her.

"You're new," he said, reaching out to shake her hand. "I'm Jim Brass."

"Yeah, Ronnie Lake," she said, shaking his hand.

"Ronnie Lake? Like, Veronica? You know, the actress? _Sullivan's Travels_?"

Ronnie looked slightly confused for a moment, then smiled. "I think that's my dad's favorite movie."

"Right," Brass said, exchanging an amused smile with Sara.

Brass received a call to work – a couple hookers were willing to talk about what they had heard at the motel – and left Sara and Ronnie alone. Ronnie smiled.

"He seems nice."

"He is," Sara agreed. "One of the best cops we have, right, Mitch?"

"You bet," he said. "We'd do anything for Captain Brass."

"Okay, Ronnie, let's get back to work."

* * *

"I saw Sara at her scene."

Grissom looked up from his paperwork to see Brass walking into his office. "How's she holding up?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Brass said. He chuckled. "It's obvious she doesn't enjoy babysitting."

Grissom frowned for a moment, then smiled in understanding. "You met Ronnie?"

"That I did. Have you met her yet?"

Grissom shook his head. "I haven't had the pleasure. I know that Sara finds her to be tiring."

"I can see why."

Grissom's phone lit up with a text from Nick asking him to come to the layout room. "Gotta go."

"Yeah," Brass agreed, getting up with him. "Just … Gil, Sara's okay, isn't she?"

"Of course," Grissom replied. "She's fine."

"Okay. Good. I'll see you later."

Grissom nodded and hurried out the door, leaving Brass standing alone in the hallway. Brass sighed as he watched Grissom turn the corner.

"Keep an eye on her, Gil," he muttered to himself. "She's too special to lose."

* * *

Sara and Ronnie's victim, Eddie Kay, proved to be a man who had died, as Doc Robbins so succinctly put it, of being homeless in Las Vegas. He found Sara in the layout room to give her the news; he didn't want to make her come back to the morgue just to be told her victim had died of cardiac arrest caused by dehydration. He also mentioned bruising that indicated the man had been "roughed up."

The coroner left as Ronnie entered the room. She had found the shelter, located on Rancho and Main, that had most recently seen the man, and had given him the new socks he had been wearing.

"Rancho and Main is less than a mile from where we found him," she said. "Bum got into a fight – business as usual – and died of exposure, right?" The smile slid off her face and she shook her head. "Oops, that was a question. I know, I'm down to four. But, I mean, that's it. Case closed, right?"

"What does that look like to you?" Sara asked, handing her a photo of the victim's wrists and hands.

Ronnie studied the photo for a moment. "Perimortem abrasions … parallel double rails … It's handcuffs. Cops must have picked him up before he died."

"Maybe that's not all they did," Sara said.

Ronnie looked at her in disbelief. "Well, that's a guess."

"What is the first thing that the police do when they question a suspect?" Sara asked.

"Check for ID; standard procedure," Ronnie replied.

"Eddie Kay's only identification was an expired driver's license found separated from all of his worldly possessions." She picked up the evidence bag that held the man's ID and handed it to Ronnie. "Print it."

Ronnie smiled in disbelief. "You're not seriously going to go after the cops over something like this?"

Sara felt a shot of anger rush through her. "You know what, that question I _will_ answer. We're not here to protect anyone, Ronnie, not even the cops. We're _here_ to figure out what happened. If you can't do that, you should get a different job."

She stalked out of the room, leaving a slightly horrified Ronnie holding the evidence bag. She went straight to the locker room, where she sat down and bowed her head.

"Hey," Nick said, his wet hair suggesting he had just come from the showers. "How's it going, Sar?"

Sara looked up at him. Her anger began to seep from her, but she found it being replaced by a sense of hopelessness. "I … Nick, why do you do your job?"

Nick frowned. "To help people," he said. "To find justice for the victims."

Sara nodded. "Right. Exactly. And, we don't protect the people who hurt those victims, right?"

"That would be counterproductive," he replied.

"Even when the cops are the ones who hurt them?"

Nick sat down next to her. "You suspect an officer was involved in your case?"

"Maybe," she said. "Our vic died of exposure, but he was roughed up before he got to that point. And, the marks on his wrists are telling me he was cuffed. A cop did that."

"Okay," Nick said slowly. "So, print his ID and find the cop."

"Yes, exactly! But, when I told Ronnie to print the ID, she looked at me like I was nuts. Like we're here to protect the cops. Like we can't do our job if our job leads us to an answer we don't like."

"She's new, Sara," Nick said. "She's new, and she's learning. She doesn't understand how we operate yet." He smiled. "She's lucky to have a straight arrow like you teaching her."

Sara exhaled the last of her anger and hopelessness and smiled at him. "You're right. Of course. You always are." She nudged him with her shoulder. "Thanks, Nicky. I overreacted."

"Hey, it happens," he said. He stood up and grinned. "Grissom would say it's a loss of perspective, you know."

She rolled her eyes. "Grissom thinks that showing up five minutes late for an interrogation because you were eating lunch shows a loss of perspective."

"Look, Sar, I've got to get back to work, but, if you need anything …"

"I'm fine now, Nick. You've already helped me more than you know."

He winked at her. "Keep on keepin' on."

* * *

"Sara? Can I see you?"

"Yeah," Sara said, stopping her progress down the hall to duck into Doug's office. "What's up?"

"Ronnie tells me you're looking into a cop over your dead homeless guy."

"Oh," she said. "Yeah. Abrasions on his wrists show he was handcuffed shortly before he died. I asked her to print his ID to see which cop cuffed him."

Doug nodded. "Anything to suggest that he died as a result of police brutality?"

"No," Sara admitted. "Doc Robbins said he died of a heart attack brought about by dehydration."

Doug nodded. "Sadly common for the homeless this time of year."

"Yeah."

"Okay. Follow the prints on the cop and interview him. Keep me posted on this, Sara. If something seems off to you, I'll let you run with it and I'll back you up. But, don't go against the police without me."

She nodded. "Got it. Thanks, Doug."

He smiled at her and turned back to his paperwork, which she was learning was his way of dismissing his team. Sara took the hint and went back into the hallway, where she nearly ran into Ronnie.

"I've got our cop," she said. "Office Casella. According to his supervisor, he should be getting off around now."

"Okay," Sara said. "Let's go to PD and talk to him."

* * *

Officer Casella readily admitted to his involvement with Eddie Kay. He had broken up a fight between him and another homeless man over a sandwich. After the other man made off with the sandwich, Kay had attacked Casella, obviously blaming him for its loss. Casella had cuffed him, preparing to take him into custody, but his partner had warned that it was likely a ploy to be taken to the air conditioned jail.

"I can't believe I almost fell for that," he said, winding up his story.

"I kinda wish you had," Sara said. "The man died."

Casella's face fell. "You … don't think I had anything to do with that, right?"

Sara exhaled. "No. But, listen, in the future … remember that everyone is a human being, okay? Just because he's homeless doesn't make him a second class citizen."

Ronnie looked like she wanted to say something, but bit her tongue. Sara was glad. She had no idea what the younger woman was thinking, but knew that she wanted to get out of there.

"Are we done here?" Casella asked.

"We're done," Sara agreed. "Have a nice day."

"You, too."

Sara turned to walk back to their SUV with Ronnie. Ronnie waited until Sara had pulled away from PD to start talking.

"He was really mean to Mr. Kay, wasn't he?"

Sara nodded.

"Mr. Kay wasn't trying to get to jail for the A/C; he just wanted his sandwich back."

"Right."

"I'm sorry, Sara. I get what you were trying to do. I'm sorry that I didn't get it from the beginning. I'm sorry that I fought you on it."

"You didn't fight me," Sara said. "You questioned me, but, in the end, you went along with what I asked you to do." She paused. "As long as you're learning, it was a good experience."

Ronnie smiled. "So … what now?"

"Now, we go back to the lab and wait for another case."

* * *

Their shift ended quietly, for which Sara was grateful. She wasn't sure she could handle another case just yet. She ducked into Grissom's office before leaving, but found it empty. Frowning slightly, she went to the desk.

"Judy, do you know where Grissom is?"

"He's out in the field with Greg," she said. She pulled the address and handed it to Sara. "Assuming they're not on their way here, you'll find them at that address."

"Thanks."

"Anytime."

Sara smiled and made her way to her car. She really wanted to see Grissom, but she knew that if she waited for him to come home, she'd likely only have a few minutes before having to leave for work again.

She sat down in her car and sighed. This "separate shifts" thing was getting old. Fast.

* * *

Greg was out in the yard when Sara arrived at the house. He was lifting a gun from a puddle, and looking at it as though it held all the answers to his problems.

"Wow!" she said. "What have you got there, Greg?"

"Twenty-two handgun," he said. "Looks like it could be the murder weapon." He bagged the gun and smiled at her. "You off the clock?"

"Yeah. Good job," she said, looking at the gun.

Greg nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment. "Thanks. How you doing?"

"Well, I've had better days," she said. She smiled slightly. "You miss me yet?"

"A little more every day," he replied, grinning at her.

Sara smiled.

"Grissom's in the attic," Greg said. "_Still_."

Sara nodded, knowing that he'd understand if she didn't stay outside to prolong their conversation. She went into the house, but only made it to the second floor before she found Grissom. He was walking down the hall carrying what appeared to be a box full of bees.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," he replied. "Bee frame. Inside I've got the queen, workers, the whole colony."

"You're looting the crime scene of its bees?" Sara asked, wondering why she was surprised.

"I cleared it with Animal Control," Grissom said as though that should answer her questions. "This colony's healthy. I need it to study Colony Collapse Disorder. Bees are dying in record numbers everywhere."

And, suddenly, it all made sense. "You know, I did read that if every bee on earth died, the human race would follow four years later," Sara said.

Grissom tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. "There's no hard evidence to support that."

"Oh," Sara said.

"But, the world will end," he continued. "Someday."

"Well, thanks, Griss," Sara said. "That was inspirational. I'll sleep better now."

He smiled. "You going home?"

"Well, I'm not sure about that," Sara said. "Where exactly are those bees going to live? Because if it's in my kitchen …"

Grissom laughed. "No. I'm going to set them up at the lab – _outside_, before you even ask. You know how Ecklie loves it when I conduct experiments."

"Is this really the time to push him?"

"He's fine with us," Grissom said, shrugging.

Sara pursed her lips to hide her smile. "Okay, Bug Man. I'll leave you to play with your friends."

"I'll put these guys in the truck and walk you to your car," Grissom said.

Sara nodded and they walked out of the house together. She watched him secure the bees in the truck. Once they were settled, he pulled off his gloves and took her hand.

"How was your day?" he asked as they walked to her car.

Sara shook her head. "It's a long story. We can talk about it later."

"Okay." He looked at her for a minute. "How's it going with Ronnie?"

Sara thought for a moment. "She needs a lot of guidance."

"Then, she's lucky to have you."

Sara smiled. "Well, I'm lucky to have you."

They reached her car, and Grissom pulled her into his arms.

"I've missed you, Sara. It's not the same working without you."

"I know," she said, clinging to him. "I wish …"

"I do, too," he said, pulling back and trailing his fingers down her cheek. "But, we'll make it work. Right?"

She forced a smile. "Right."

He leaned down to kiss her. "I'll see you when I get home."

"I'll be there."

* * *

Grissom wished he had known as he kissed Sara goodbye exactly how long it would be before he would see her again. The missing girl he and his team had been seeking was found, only to be killed by her pastor as he threw her from the second floor of Children Services to the first in an effort to drive the demons from her body.

The death itself was horrific enough. The fact that the girl had landed and died at Catherine's feet made it the stuff of nightmares.

Grissom helped Catherine process the scene. As soon as they were done, he turned to look at her with compassionate eyes.

"Do you have time for a drink?"

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, let's go."

"You want to talk about it?" Grissom asked as they began sipping their drinks.

"Oh, what's to talk about?" Catherine said. She shook her head. "I'm impressed, Gil. I never imagined that you'd be the one suggesting that someone _talk_ about something."

He smiled slightly. "Well, after so many years of working with you, I've picked up a thing or two."

"Oh, funny." She put her glass down and looked at him. "How's Sara doing on swing?"

Grissom smiled. "I don't think she's too thrilled with her new partner."

"Ronnie," Catherine said with a nod. "Brass said she's … unique."

"Sara would probably agree with that."

"Right," Catherine said. "But, I didn't mean to ask how it's going with Ronnie. I was asking more about how she's doing with everything else."

"She's fine," Grissom said.

"She's fine?" Catherine repeated.

"You don't believe me?"

"No, I believe you … You'd know better than me how she's handling everything. It just seems like a lot, especially on top of everything she went through with Natalie."

Grissom sighed. "Cath, she's fine. She'd tell me if it was too much for her."

"Okay," Catherine said, still clearly unconvinced. "Just … watch out for her, okay?"

"I always have."

"I know. Just …"

"I've got this, Catherine."

She nodded and began sipping her drink again. "Okay. I trust you."

* * *

When Grissom got home, he was relieved to see that Sara wasn't sleeping on the couch. He made his way to the bedroom, where she was curled up in a ball in bed, clutching his pillow and talking in her sleep. He smiled as he recognized what she was saying – she was reciting the multiplication tables. Remembering what she had told him about being a mathlete in high school, he assumed she was reliving a match in her dreams.

He got ready for bed and climbed in beside her, pulling her against him. She released his pillow to snuggle into his side; he grabbed it and settled back against it before joining her in sleep.


	4. Tomorrow

A/N: Thank you to the person or people who nominated my stories for the Fan Fiction Awards! I'm so excited about it!

Thanks to all of you for reading and reviewing. I hope you like this chapter, and that you think I've done this moment in Grissom's and Sara's lives justice.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episode 804, "The Case of the Cross-Dressing Carp."

* * *

_Tomorrow_

"Finally!"

Grissom laughed at the look of child-like glee on Sara's face. "You won't miss the sling?" he teased.

"Are you kidding?" She laughed with him. "This little brace is definitely doable."

"Just for a week to ten days," Dr. Rogers promised. "Then you'll be back to normal."

"I'm not sure I remember normal at this point," Sara said with a sigh.

Grissom grinned. "It'll come back."

Sara looked at him, coaxing forth a smile to keep the smile on his face. How could she tell him that she was terrified she'd never feel normal again? That she didn't like her new normal? That she wanted the old normal back more than anything?

"Okay," Dr. Rogers said, interrupting her thoughts. "I think we're done here for today. I'll see you next week."

"Great," Sara said, hopping off the table. "Thanks, Doctor."

"You're welcome." He looked past Sara to Grissom. "Take good care of her."

Grissom grinned. "I will if she'll let me."

After so many months of treatment, Dr. Rogers knew Sara well enough to understand what Grissom meant. He rolled his eyes. "Sara, let him take care of you."

She smiled. "I'll try."

"Better than nothing," the doctor said with a shrug. "Good luck, Dr. Grissom."

Laughing, Grissom took Sara's hand to lead her away. "Thanks."

After making Sara's final appointment, they got into the car. Sara frowned in confusion when Grissom turned the opposite way from their path home.

"Where are we going?"

"We're going out for lunch," Grissom said. "We're going to celebrate your new mobility."

Sara grinned. "Where are we going?" she asked again.

"That will have to be a surprise until we get there."

Knowing that she'd never get more than that out of him, Sara settled back in her seat to wait out the ride to their mystery destination.

* * *

"Lake Mead?" Sara asked in surprise as Grissom pulled into a parking space.

"You expected something else?"

"I didn't know what to expect," Sara admitted as they climbed out of the car.

Grissom smiled and reached into the backseat for a bag that Sara had not noticed before.

"What's that?"

"A surprise."

She smiled and shook her head. "You're just full of surprises today, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't want you to get bored, my dear." He took her hand to lead her to the restaurant he had chosen. "Come on. This place has the best calamari you'll ever eat."

They had their calamari, along with a bottle of white wine. Grissom raised his glass and smiled at Sara.

"To you and your recovery," he said. "You never cease to amaze me, Sara. You are the strongest person I've ever had the privilege to know. My life is richer for having you in it."

Sara flushed at the compliment as she touched her glass to his and took a sip of her wine.

"And, I have something for you," Grissom said, putting his glass back down. He reached into the bag at his feet and took out a large, wrapped package.

"What's the occasion?" Sara asked.

"An afternoon spent together," Grissom replied.

Sara smiled sadly. Those were few and far between since her move to swing shift.

"Open it," Grissom encouraged.

Sara unwrapped the package and opened the box. She looked at the contents for a moment, then looked at Grissom in confusion.

"Um … I feel stupid for even asking, but what is this?"

Grissom smiled nervously. "A beekeeper suit. I was hoping …"

Sara grinned, realizing what he was offering. "You want me to visit your friends?"

"Only if you want to," he said quickly. "I'll understand if you –"

"Gil," she interrupted, "I'll be there."

He smiled, his relief obvious. "Really?"

"Really."

Grissom smiled as she repacked the box. He thought of the _other_ item in his bag, but decided to save it for later. He didn't want to overwhelm her with too many surprises at once … particularly not surprises like the one he wanted to give her.

* * *

Within twenty-four hours, Grissom and Sara both found themselves buried in work. Grissom was working his case with the help of nearly his entire team, which gave him some flexibility, but Sara was working with Ronnie and a very obliging Greg. Ronnie required a great deal of guidance, and Sara had a feeling that Greg was only involved in her case because it involved Vegas history – they were investigating the death of a body found under the ruins of Sam Braun's recently-imploded casino.

Sara was completely baffled by her case. While Greg was having the time of his life exploring everything he knew about old Vegas, Sara searched for their victim's identity. They were able to determine that he had been killed in 1964, but a search of people who had gone missing that year didn't yield her the results she wanted. Only four were still unaccounted for, and none could have been their victim.

"God, this is maddening," Sara said. "How can we move forward with this? We don't know anything!"

"Okay, I have an idea," Ronnie said.

Sara looked up. Although Ronnie's ideas to date had not been the most impressive, she was willing to listen.

"It's all dependent upon how good our trace lab is," Ronnie said uncertainly.

"Talk to Hodges," Greg said with a grin. "He can do anything."

"Well, in that case, this could work. We need to get him to identify the isotopes in the bone. That will tell us where our victim was from – or, at least where he spent the last few years of his life." She shrugged. "I know it's not much, but it might help."

"It might," Sara agreed. "Ronnie, that's a great idea."

"Really?"

"Really," Sara said with a grin, pleased to see her young colleague's face light up. "I'll go talk to Hodges right now."

"Awesome! Let me know what he says."

"I will."

Grabbing a sample of bone from the table, Sara left for Hodges' lab. She found him looking into a microscope.

"Hodges," she said as she walked into the lab, "here's the problem."

"You know, that's what Mom says when all I ask is to come home for Thanksgiving."

Ignoring Hodges' plea for sympathy, Sara began describing her own problem. "My John Doe is from 1964."

"Well, to quote Sherlock Sanders, this town was built on dead bodies," Hodges replied.

Sara knew Hodges well enough to ignore his slight mistreatment of Greg. "The national missing persons database only lists four persons in '64, none of which are a match. It might help if we knew where he was from …"

"Do I look like the ghost whisperer?" Hodges bent over his microscope again.

Sara ignored him yet again. "Every geographical area has specific levels of oxygen isotopes due to rainfall, climate and vegetation … And, you can identify those isotopes in bones."

Hodges abandoned his microscope. She had piqued his interest. "You do know those isotopes will only tell you where he spent the last three years or so of his life."

Sara put the bottle containing the bone down on the table and slid it toward him. "I'll take it. It's more than we have now."

Hodges drew a deep breath as he thought it over. "If this works, I write the paper for the forensics journal. Sole credit."

He agreed to do the time-consuming test _and_ she didn't have to write the paper? Sara felt like jumping up and down, but held a straight face.

"Deal."

She turned and left without waiting for an answer. She felt slightly giddy as she walked down the hall. If Ronnie's idea worked, they could finally have the break they needed. And, until she had results from Hodges, she had some much-needed free time.

Deciding what to do with her free time was easy. After a week of seeing her boyfriend for little more than a few minutes at a time, Sara knew there was nothing she'd rather do than spend time with him. But first, she needed to make sure Ronnie was busy. She found her in the break room.

"Hey," she said as she walked in.

"Hi," Ronnie replied, looking up from her lunch. "Have you eaten? I'm just finishing, but I'll stay and keep you company if you want. I probably should have waited for you, but I wasn't sure how long you'd be with Hodges."

"Um, no, I'm fine," Sara said. "Actually, I was hoping you'd start sifting through everything we brought back from the crime scene.

"Oh, sure," Ronnie said, collecting the wrappers from her lunch to throw away.

Sara looked around. "Where did Greg go?"

"Something about discovering history," Ronnie said. "He's fun, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he's great," Sara said. "Okay, if we don't know where he is, I'll catch up with him later. You'll be okay on your own?"

"Sure."

"Okay," Sara said. "Page me if you need me."

"I will."

With Ronnie occupied, Sara went to Grissom's office. The door was open, but he wasn't there. Frowning, she began walking through the lab in search of him. She paused for a moment as she passed the layout room; Ronnie and Greg were working together. Smiling at the sight of Greg playing mentor, she walked on, continuing her mission.

Finally giving up, she went to the front desk.

"Hey, Judy," she said as she approached. "Have you seen Grissom?"

"He's out checking on his bees," Judy said. "Do you want me to page him for you? He said I could if anyone needed him."

"Oh, no, thanks," Sara said. "It's not that important."

"Okay," Judy agreed.

Sara turned from the desk and bit her lip. Maybe it was time to take Grissom up on his offer.

She went to the locker room and opened her locker. Feeling only slightly apprehensive, she took out the box that had been there for a week. Smiling at the thought of what she was about to do, she carried it outside to change. She didn't want to walk through the halls of the lab in a bee suit. Everyone would think she had lost it – even Grissom didn't dress like that in the building.

Once she was appropriately attired, Sara opened the door to Grissom's bee habitat. He was inside, as she expected, playing with his friends. He looked up as she walked in; his eyes lit up at the sight of her.

"Oh, I love it when you dress up."

Sara giggled. "Well, you know, whatever it takes to get some time with you." She followed him around the area. "How's the study going? Any sign of colony collapse disorder?"

"Nope. So far it's healthy," he said, using the canister in his hands to pump smoke around the box full of bees in front of them.

Sara cleared her throat and waved some of the smoke away from her face. "Nothing _too_ healthy about smoking," she said, giving him a smile.

"The scent confuses the guard bees," Grissom explained. "They won't emit the pheromone that tells the colony there's an intruder."

"Oh, don't worry, he's harmless," Sara said, leaning over to look at the bees as he opened the box.

Grissom smiled, pulling out some bees to show her.

"Who's who?" Sara asked.

"These are the workers," Grissom said. "Infertile females."

"They don't sting?" Sara asked, looking at his gloveless hands.

"Well, not unless you swat one," Grissom said. "Or close one up in your hand, or freak out."

Sara grinned.

"Go ahead, take off your glove," Grissom encouraged.

"Eh," Sara said, not entirely convinced. "All right. I trust you."

She pulled off the glove and held out her hand. Almost immediately, a bee landed on it.

"See? It's cool."

Sara giggled as it crawled across her hand, tickling her.

"The worker bees defend the hive, procure the pollen, make the honey, nurture the larvae and pupae in each of these brood cells."

Sara nodded, never taking her eyes from the bee on her hand. She smiled as she watched it, amazed that she was actually letting a bee crawl all over her. Grissom looked at the bee, too. After watching its progress around her fingers for a moment, he looked up at her. Sara expression of happiness sent a jolt of anticipation through him. She was calm, relaxed … for once, work wasn't distracting them … maybe now …

_Do it, Gil. Just do it._

"You know, maybe we should get married."

The words were spoken to the bees, not to Sara. He wanted to smack himself. _Smooth, Grissom. How could you not look at her at a time like this?_

Sara's whole body jerked in surprise. She had not expected – she had never – Grissom looked at her, his eyes meeting hers –

"Ouch!"

The bee crawling across her hand was obviously less than pleased by the clenching her of fingers.

"Sorry," Grissom said quickly. He pumped more smoke around the bees, sending them away before they decided to attack Sara.

Sara rubbed at her palm with her gloved hand, giggling. Did he really just …?

"Don't pick it out," Grissom cautioned. "It makes it worse. Releases the venom into the blood stream. It's better to scrape it."

Sara stared at him, feeling tears fill her eyes. She fought for control as he took her hand in his and scraped the stinger out.

"So, um … what do you think? You know, about –"

"Yes," Sara interrupted him, ducking her head to meet his eyes as he bent over her hand.

Grissom looked up at her in wonder.

"Let's do it!" Sara gave him a beaming smile along with the words.

"Yeah?"

She nodded, giggling again. Grissom smiled at her, and leaned in to kiss her. Sara leaned forward to meet him halfway; their protective helmets knocked together. They halting pulled back, looking down, then up at each other again. They both started laughing.

"Let me put these guys away," Grissom said.

"Yeah," Sara said. "I'll go … change."

Grissom smiled, and Sara hurried back out of the enclosure. Grissom joined her only a moment later, quickly shedding his own protective clothing.

Once back inside the lab, Grissom and Sara nearly ran down the hall to Grissom's office. They struggled not to look at each other, knowing that eye contact would have them blowing their very thin cover.

They made it into the office; Grissom closed and locked the door behind them. He grabbed Sara to him, lifting her up and twirling her around. Sara giggled, her giddiness bubbling over. He set her back on her feet and kissed her.

"We're really going to do this, aren't we?" he asked as he pulled back. He grinned at her. He was suddenly sure he'd never stop smiling again.

Sara nodded, her eyes shining. "We're getting married."

Grissom hugged her tightly again. "I love you so much."

"I love you," Sara replied. She pulled back from his embrace enough to kiss him. "I can't wait to be your wife."

"My wife," he whispered, smiling at her. "I like that." He kissed her again.

"Mm," Sara hummed against his lips. "Me, too."

Grissom released her from his embrace and took her hand, leading her to his desk. "I have something for you," he said. "I was going to give it to you the other day when we went out for lunch, but I didn't think the time was right. But, now …"

He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a black velvet box. "My mother made me get this back once before," he said. "For the past year, she's been asking me when I was planning to give it away." He cracked the box open and lifted the diamond ring out of it. "My grandmother wore this from the day she agreed to marry my grandfather until the day she died. Now, I'd be honored if you'd wear it."

Tears slid down Sara's cheeks as Grissom slid the ring onto her finger. It met with resistance as it encountered the brace that she was still required to wear for another three days. Even if it had settled back as far as it should, it still wouldn't have stayed in place. She closed her fingers into a fist to keep the ring from slipping off.

"We can have it sized," Grissom said, realizing it was too big. "If … I mean, if you'd rather have a different –"

His voice died as her lips covered hers.

"I love it," she said as she broke the kiss. "I love it, and I love you. I'm honored to wear your grandmother's ring."

"So, then, we should take it to the jeweler after work?"

Sara giggled. "Yeah. I think that's a good idea. I don't want to lose it." She took the ring off and slid it into her pocket.

Grissom lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against her ring finger. "Will that do for now?"

A fresh bout of tears slid down her cheeks as she nodded, throwing her arms around his neck.

"God, Gil," she whispered. "You make me so happy."

He pulled back enough to look into her eyes. "Socrates said, 'One word frees us of all the weight and pain in life; that word is love.' When I'm with you, that's how I feel."

Completely speechless, Sara gave him a beaming smile, then captured his lips in a loving kiss.

Her new normal was suddenly wonderful.


	5. Perfect Happiness

A/N: This chapter is a little short, but I love it. I hope you like it, too.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episode 804, "The Case of the Cross-Dressing Carp."

* * *

_Perfect Happiness_

Grissom gave himself credit. He was holding it together beautifully. Even Catherine hadn't realized that he was practically buzzing with excitement. Of course, the cooler full of fish she had been pushing down the hall may have made her less observant of his moods than she normally was.

Grissom stood in one of the labs, processing the fish Catherine had brought back from their crime scene, when he felt someone standing over his shoulder. He mentally sighed, knowing there was only one person who would hover like that.

"Yes?" he asked, straightening up.

"Oh," Hodges said, straightening with him. "Sorry. Bad habit from when we worked the miniature cases together."

"That was fun, wasn't it?" Grissom asked, the sarcasm that laced his tone totally lost on Hodges.

"I thought so," Hodges replied with a smile.

_Humor him … it'll all be over quicker that way … _

"What do you see?" Grissom asked, indicating the fish he was dissecting.

Hodges leaned over the table to get a better look. "Well, those are eggs … It's a girl."

Grissom pulled back another flap of skin.

"And, those white organs would be gonads." Hodges stood up straight again. "Male and female parts. Simultaneous hermaphroditism?"

Grissom raised his eyebrows slightly.

"Stop me if you already know this, but some fish do change sex naturally."

"Not carp," Grissom said.

"I heard of a study when I was attending a forensics consortium in DC," Hodges began. "Feminized male bass were found in the waste water effluent of the Potomac River."

Grissom thought for a moment, his eyes lighting up. He grabbed one of the test tubes Catherine had brought back from the crime scene. "It's the water," he exclaimed.

"Yeah, it was full of excreted pharmaceuticals and what they called 'personal care products,' all of which supposedly alter the endocrine system of the fish and their young."

"Good, Hodges," Grissom said, putting the test tube away. "Now that we're working together again …" He opened the cooler and took out another fish, which he put into Hodges' outstretched hands. "Take at least two organ samples along with blood. Send them with these water samples to our clinical lab for hormone quants."

"You got it, partner!" Hodges called as Grissom left the lab.

Grissom turned to give him a look that clearly warned him of ever calling him _partner_ again, and continued on his way down the hall. He pulled off his gloves and looked at his watch, smiling slightly. Sara would be finishing her shift … and, he was ready to use some of his comp time to cut out early.

* * *

In Sara's mind, it had been a banner day. Hodges had performed a highly unusual test that had yielded them results that led to the identity of their victim – a man who had died in 1964, and, without their skill and dedication, could have remained a John Doe forever. Greg had worked with her and Ronnie, reminding Sara that even though she wasn't technically part of the graveyard team anymore, she would always be one of them. Ronnie had calmed down with the questions – really, she was becoming likeable.

And, then, there had been her moment with Grissom and the bees …

Sara couldn't stop grinning as she drove home. Knowing that she couldn't possibly keep her news to herself another moment, she picked up her phone and searched for the familiar number. She hummed cheerfully as she listened to it ring.

"Hello?" asked the groggy voice.

"Mom! Hi!"

"Sara? What's wrong?"

"Wrong?" Sara giggled. "Nothing. Why?"

"Because it's the middle of the night," Laura said. "You never call me this late."

"Oh," Sara said, her face twisting slightly. "I'm sorry. I just … I have some news, and I wanted to tell you as soon as I could."

"Okay," Laura said, sounding more awake. "What's your news?"

"Gil asked me to marry him!"

"Sara!" Laura gasped. "You're getting married?"

"Yes!" Sara laughed. "Can you believe it?"

"Oh, sweetheart, this is wonderful news! Have you set a date yet?"

"No, not yet. We haven't discussed any of the details. You'll be the first one I call when we work it out."

"So, I suppose there's no point in asking if you'll get married in Las Vegas or come to California."

"No point yet," Sara agreed. A smile tugged at her lips. She was going to plan a _wedding_!

"You two have a lot to talk about," Laura said with a smile.

"Yes, we do," Sara agreed.

"Are you with Gil right now?"

"No. I'm on my way home from work, but he still has a few hours left in his shift."

"Okay. Well, tell him I said congratulations, and welcome to the family."

Sara smiled. "I will. I'll let you go back to sleep now."

"After hearing news like that, I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep!"

Sara laughed, knowing that her mother never had trouble sleeping. "I'll talk to you soon, Mom."

"Bye, princess. I love you."

"I love you, too."

Sara closed her phone as she parked her car at home. She knew it was getting late on the east coast, but decided that Mary would be far more upset if she didn't get a phone call the same day Sara got engaged than she would be about potentially being pulled out of bed to take the call. To Sara's relief, it only rang twice – that meant Mary likely had been awake.

"Sara?"

"Hi, Mary," Sara said as she walked into the house. "Did I wake you?"

"No, I haven't made it to bed yet," Mary said, laughing. "What's up?"

"I have news!"

"Are you going to tell me, or should I start guessing?"

Sara couldn't even answer Mary's question before blurting out her news. "I'm engaged!"

"Sara!" Mary shrieked.

"I know!" Sara laughed. "Can you believe it?"

"When did this happen?"

"Just today."

"Oh, my gosh! Sara, I'm so excited! Congratulations!"

"Thanks," Sara said, giggling again.

"When is the wedding?" Mary asked.

"Oh, I don't know yet," Sara said. She suddenly realized what she needed to ask her best friend, and felt ridiculously nervous about doing so. "Mary … Gil and I haven't discussed a single detail of this wedding yet, but I'm sure he won't mind if I ask you this … Will you be my matron of honor?"

"Of course! There is nothing I want to do more!"

Sara grinned, feeling very foolish for her bout of nerves. "Great. Thanks."

Mary giggled. "You didn't really need to ask, you know. I've wanted to do this for you for ages."

"Well," Sara said, "we do need to be on the same page. What if I just assumed you would do it, but you were waiting for me to ask, thinking that I didn't want you?"

Mary laughed. "You _really_ need to worry less."

"Thanks, Mom."

She giggled again. "Okay, enough of this. Tell me everything! How did he ask? Do you have a ring yet? What –"

"Okay, okay!" Sara laughed, cutting Mary off mid-question. "I get it! You want the details!"

"Of course I do!"

"I think you'll be disappointed," Sara said. "It's nothing like how Tom proposed to you."

Mary laughed. "I should hope not. I almost choked on my ring. Seriously, why would anyone think putting a ring in a glass of champagne is a good idea? He didn't do that, did he? Was there champagne?"

"No, there was no champagne," Sara said. "We were actually at work, and –"

"Sara?"

"Hey," Sara called from the kitchen as Grissom walked into the house. "Hey, Mar, Griss just got home. Can I –"

"Call me back," Mary said at once. "I want details, but you guys need some time right now."

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"Perfect. Congratulations again – to you both."

"Thanks. I love you, Mar."

"I love you, too."

Sara closed her phone and looked up at Grissom, who was descending the stairs with a bouquet of roses in his hands. He smiled as he offered them to her.

"For my fiancée."

Sara flushed and smiled as she accepted the flowers. "Thank you," she said, leaning up to kiss him. "They're beautiful."

He trailed the backs of his fingers down her cheek. "So are you."

Sara blushed a deeper shade of red and moved away from him to find a vase for the flowers. Grissom picked up the flowers to trim the stems.

"You were talking to Mary?"

"Yeah," Sara said, filling her vase with water. "I wanted to tell her about our engagement. She says congratulations." She set the vase on the counter, and Grissom put the flowers into it. "I asked her to be my matron of honor."

Grissom smiled. "I suppose we will need a wedding party, won't we?"

Sara nodded. "Mom said we have a lot to talk about."

"You called your mother, too?"

"On the way home," Sara affirmed. She looked at the clock. "Which reminds me – why are you home so early?"

"You don't want me here?" he asked with mock dismay.

Sara laughed. "I'm pleasantly surprised that you're here."

"Well," he said with a smile, "it's not every day that I get engaged. I figured that I'd leave around the same time as you so we could have some time alone together. I've got plenty of comp time to cover it."

"I'm glad you came home early," Sara said, stepping closer and wrapping her arms around him.

"Me, too." Grissom pressed a kiss into her hair, and cleared his throat. "Sara … as much as I want to get into a very private celebration with you, I think I should probably email my mom to tell her about our engagement first."

"You should," Sara agreed, backing out of his embrace.

"I want you to help me."

"Okay," Sara said slowly.

"Come on."

Grissom took her hand and led her into their home office. He rummaged through a drawer for a moment, then turned to face her with his digital camera in hand.

"I want to send her a picture," he said. "She always says they're worth a thousand words."

Sara giggled. "I'll bet she's the only one who says that."

Grissom smiled. "She's an artist, Sara. Pictures have special meaning to her."

"I know," Sara said. "So, what kind of picture do you want to send her?"

"Do you still have the ring?"

Sara pulled it from her pocket. "We need to have it sized."

"I know. But, I want her to know that it's with its rightful owner."

Sara flushed slightly. Smiling, Grissom took the ring from her and slid it onto her finger.

"You'll be in the picture with me, right?"

"Of course."

He set the camera on a stack of books on the desk, looked at the screen to make sure he could see Sara, and pressed the buttons for the timer.

"Thirty seconds," he said, stepping beside Sara and putting his arm around her. Grinning, she put her left hand over his heart. Grissom smiled down at her, looking up just as the camera took the picture.

"Let's see!" Sara said excitedly.

Grinning, Grissom picked up the camera. Sara crowded close to him to look at the photo. They both smiled at the looks of perfect happiness on their faces, and the light reflecting off the diamond ring on Sara's finger.

"Perfect," Grissom said. "She'll love it."

He connected the camera to the computer to send the picture. Sara sat down next to him, watching in silence as he opened a new email message and attached the picture. After thinking for a moment, he began typing.

_Hi, Mom,_

_Sara and I have some news for you. We're sharing it in a picture. Look at the attachment. _

_Love, Gil and Sara_

"What do you think?" he asked.

Sara kissed his cheek. "I think it's perfect."

Grissom sent the message, then closed his email. He turned to Sara with a smile.

"What shall we do now?" he asked in a husky voice.

Sara bit her lip. "Can we do something else?"

Grissom's eyebrows shot up, but he nodded. "What did you have in mind?"

"I want … Gil, I want you to teach me sign language."

Grissom looked surprised.

"It's just … I know you'll always be there when I'm with your mother, but I hate the thought of speaking to her through a translator. She's going to be my mother-in-law, and I'd just like to –"

Sara's words were cut off as Grissom captured her lips in a kiss.

"Sara, that is quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone has ever asked of me," he said. "I would love to teach you to sign."

Sara's face lit up with a smile. "Right now?"

"You won't learn everything in the next hour," he cautioned, sliding his chair so he was facing her.

"I don't expect to," she said. "But, I can make a good start."

"Indeed," he said. "Let's begin with the alphabet."

* * *

An hour later, Sara had mastered the alphabet, as well as the signs for mother, father, fiancé, Gil and dog.

"You're doing great," Grissom said, signing the words as he spoke them.

"How do you say thanks?" Sara asked.

Grissom demonstrated the sign, allowing Sara to mimic it back to him. He smiled.

"You're welcome," he said, signing and speaking together. "Any others you'd like to learn today?"

She nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. "I love you."

Grissom modeled the sign for her, then took her hand in his to bend her fingers into the appropriate position. Sara looked at her hand, then held it up for him to see. He smiled, and kissed her extended finger tips. Sara's breath caught in her throat as he took her pinky finger into his mouth.

"Griss," she whispered, her free hand coming up to cup his cheek. "I want to go to bed."

Groaning, he stood up, pulling her to her feet. "I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

Later, spooned up against Grissom's chest, Sara felt his fingers moving across her bare stomach. They stilled, and pressed against her in what was becoming a familiar form. Tears pricked at her eyes as she smiled and pressed her hand over his.

"I love you, too," she whispered, snuggling back into his embrace.


	6. Perspective

A/N: I really hope you'll enjoy the way this chapter plays out. I'm so excited for you to read it.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episode 805, "The Chick Chop Flick Shop."

* * *

_Perspective_

"Big wedding or small?"

"Small."

Grissom smiled and nodded. "Just friends and family."

"No Ecklie."

"I'd never include him in that list," Grissom laughed. "Our mothers, of course … Carl … Mary … But, other than them, just the team?"

"And Ronnie," Sara said. She smiled ruefully. "I'm starting to like her." She paused and cocked her head to the side. "Religious or secular service?"

Grissom looked thoughtful. "Undecided."

"Will your mother kill you if you get married somewhere other than the Catholic church?"

"That's why I'm undecided."

Sara giggled. "Well, wherever we have it, I want real flowers."

"Of course." Grissom wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer. "Daytime or evening?"

"Mm," Sara hummed, settling back against the couch and into his side. "Evening is more appropriate for us, don't you think?"

Grissom pressed a kiss into her hair. "A sunset service?"

"Perfect."

"Honeymoon?"

"Hawaii?"

"If that's what you want, we'll make it happen."

Sara twisted to look at him. "Really?"

"I want to make all your dreams come true." He paused and took her hand, playing with her fingers. "Sara …"

"Yeah?"

He looked at her fingers, watching as they threaded through his. "Children?"

Sara's breath caught in her throat. "Really?"

He finally looked up at her. "Only if you –"

"Yes," she interrupted. Her eyes shone as she looked at him. "I want to have your children."

Grissom grinned and leaned down to kiss her. "I want a little girl."

"A girl?" Sara repeated. She beamed at him and ran her fingers through his hair. "With curly hair like yours." She touched his chin. "And a dimple on her chin."

His eyes were soft as he surveyed her face. "With your eyes and smile," he whispered.

"Gil …"

"Yeah?"

"If she has my smile, we're getting her braces."

He chuckled and traced a finger over her lips. "I love your smile. It's beautiful." He kissed her, then pulled back to look at her again. "Our little girl will look just like you. She'll be so beautiful."

Sara's face flushed bright red. "She'll look like _both_ of us," she corrected softly, running her fingertips down his cheek. "You'll be such a wonderful father to her."

"And, you'll be a wonderful mother." He smiled. "She'll love Hank, too."

"Every little girl needs a dog," Sara said with a smile. "They can play together in the back yard …"

"We might need a bigger yard," Grissom mused. "She'll need a swing set and a playhouse and –"

Sara's laughter cut him off.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said. "I just think you're getting ahead of yourself, that's all."

"Maybe," he acknowledged. He gave her an abashed smile. "I'm a little excited."

"Good." Sara leaned up to kiss him. "We have a lot to be excited about."

* * *

Sara and Ronnie caught several breaks in their case early in their shift; by the halfway point, they had wrapped it. Ten minutes later, Ronnie was bored.

"Think we'll catch another case tonight?" she asked.

"That I don't know," Sara said. "Unfortunately, my psychic powers are on the fritz."

"Sorry," Ronnie said. "I didn't mean –"

"Hey, girls, are you busy?" Henry asked as he walked past the layout room, where they were boxing up the last of their evidence.

"Not really," Sara acknowledged. "What's up?"

"Come to the break room. Wendy says she has something to show us."

Exchanging a glance and a shrug, Sara and Ronnie followed him down the hall. They arrived at the break room to find Wendy putting a tape into the VCR while Hodges stood behind her.

"What's going on?" Sara asked, stopping next to Hodges.

"You know how Catherine and Nick are working that case at Repulsion Pictures?" Wendy asked.

"Yeah …"

She sat back next to Henry and grinned. "I have something to show you."

Wendy pressed the play button, and her face appeared on the screen. She looked terrified as she made her way down an empty hallway in a very short skirt. They watched in shock as she went through an unlocked door and into a large room, where a man armed with a chainsaw came at her. The Wendy on the screen screamed, and the group gathered around Wendy exchanged shocked, amused looks. They watched as she was sawed in half; her torso fell away from her legs and both halves of her body collapsed to the floor.

"Oh, my God," Henry laughed. "No way!"

Grinning, Wendy stopped the tape.

"That is so cool!" Henry exclaimed. "I can't believe you worked for Repulsion Pictures."

"I did it on a whim," Wendy explained. "I was supposed to be an extra, but then they liked me, so they gave me this whole 'featured' bit. I got six hundred bucks for that."

Hodges was still staring at the now-black screen with his mouth hanging open. Wendy, surprised by his silence, looked back at him.

"What?" she asked. "I was fresh out of college; I really needed the money."

Henry chuckled.

"I don't get it," Ronnie said from her spot in the corner. "What's the thrill here? It's always hot babes with huge breasts falling out of their shirts getting hacked up …"

"I don't have huge breasts," Wendy said, sounding rather insulted. She looked down at her chest. "Mine are kind of … medium."

"Like, perfect," Hodges said.

Sara's eyes shot to the side before her head even moved to stare at him.

"-ly adequate," he quickly attempted to recover. "Better, in fact."

He looked at Sara as though hoping for someone to save him. She merely smiled.

"Okay, I'm out of here," she said.

"Hey, let's watch it again," Henry said as Sara left the room.

The halls of the lab were rather quiet as Sara walked down them. At first, she felt like she was wandering aimlessly, but eventually found her steps were directing her to Grissom's office. She peeked in and smiled. He was at his desk, doing paperwork. _At his most distractible. _

"Busy?" she asked, knocking on the open door.

"Nothing I can't put off," he said with a smile. "Come on in."

Sara walked into the office and sat down across from him. "Did you know that Hodges is interested in Wendy?"

"What?" Grissom asked.

Sara giggled. "He just told a whole group of us that her breasts are 'perfect.'"

"Sara," Grissom said, holding up his hand. "There are things I just don't need to know."

Sara giggled again. "Hey, I didn't exactly volunteer to find out myself."

"You didn't have to tell me."

"It was too much to keep to myself."

Grissom smiled. "Sharing is caring, huh?"

"Exactly."

"Hey, Griss," Warrick said as he walked into the office. "Oh, hi, Sara. How's it going?"

"Great," she said. "I'm assuming you aren't here to chat, though?"

"No, not really," he said.

"What's going on, Warrick?" Grissom asked.

"Vartann just called. He's got an entire family that was found dead in their house – mom, dad, two little kids."

Sara flinched. Warrick's _two little kids _seemed to hang in the air around her. A deep feeling of uneasiness settled over her.

"Let's go," Grissom said, already standing up. He looked back at Sara. "Sara …"

"I'll see you later," she said, standing up with him.

With a slight smile, Grissom followed Warrick out of his office. Sara left at a slower pace, the idea of an entire family killed in one evening playing through her mind over and over again.

She went into the quiet locker room and sat on the bench. She stared down at her hands in her lap without really seeing them.

_The entire family … the _children_ … Warrick and Grissom were so _casual_ about it … How could we ever have a child here? It's so dangerous … too dangerous. There are _so many_ murders. So many. Even Ronnie only came here because of the growing crime rate. How can we ever hope to live a happy life? We're in law enforcement, and I don't even think we could be safe …_

_Wendy, in that movie … getting sawed in half … just a movie … Why Wendy? Why the dark-haired girl? Don't _we_ deserve a happy ending as much as the blond girls? Isn't it – _

"'Sup?"

Greg's voice cut through the haze that filled Sara's mind. Her head jerked up; he was standing in the doorway, looking down at her.

"You know in the slasher movies, when they go after the dark-haired girl, she always dies," she said.

"Yeah," Greg said, walking into the room, "and the blond always lives." He sat down next to her and smiled. "Well, aren't you glad it wasn't a movie?"

Sara laughed and nodded. _Oh. That._ "I think … um …" She trailed off, unable to look at him. "I think I am sick of having my face shoved in death every day." She finally looked at Greg again. "The murder rate has gone up every year since I've been here. It's totally out of control, and … we're not even slowing them down."

"But, that's why we're here, right? To put them away before they can hurt anyone else?"

"If we were at all effective, the murder rate would go _down_, not up. It just seems like we're not even making a difference."

"Sara," Greg said slowly, "are you thinking of leaving CSI?"

Sara shook her head. "I don't know. I don't know what I'm thinking. Too much, I guess. I just –"

"Sara, we caught another case! A 419 in the suburbs."

Sara looked up at the very excited Ronnie and nodded. "Okay. I'll meet you at the car."

"Do you want me to go with her?" Greg asked. "Grissom won't mind, I'm sure."

As if to contradict his words, his phone sounded. Greg picked it up to see a text from his supervisor.

"I take that back," he said. "He needs me at his crime scene."

"Yeah," Sara said. "He and Warrick were investigating an entire family's murder. I'm sure they need the help."

"But …"

"But, what?"

"Are you sure you're okay, Sar?"

She nodded and gave him a smile that nearly fooled him. "I'm fine."

"You'll call me if you need anything?" Greg asked warily.

"Of course."

"Okay," he said, still obviously uneasy. "Take care, okay?"

"You, too."

Greg gave her an encouraging smile and left the room. Suddenly exhausted, Sara reluctantly pulled herself to her feet. She had barely made it out of the locker room when Doug stopped her.

"Where are you going?"

"To a 419 with Ronnie," she replied.

Doug handed her an assignment slip. "Think you can handle the 419 on your own? Catherine just called and said that she and Nick need some help on their case. I thought I could give them Ronnie, if it's all right with you."

"Sure," Sara said. "No problem."

"Great. Thanks, Sara."

"Anytime."

Sara went to collect her kit, and nearly ran into Ronnie.

"Hey," Ronnie said, "Doug just told me I have to go help grave. Are you okay with that?"

"Yeah, he told me, too," Sara said. "It's fine."

"Really?"

"Really," Sara said, smiling at her. "Have fun."

"Okay. I guess I'll see you later, then."

"If you get done before the end of shift and you're bored, give me a call," Sara said. "If I'm still at the scene, I might need help."

"You've got it."

With a wide parting grin, Ronnie went to Catherine's office to meet up with her and Nick. Picking up her kit, Sara made her way to the garage alone.

* * *

Vartann and David were already at the scene when Sara arrived. They both looked at her with such sorrow on their faces that her heart nearly stopped.

"Hey," she said, trying not to look as afraid as she felt. "What have we got?"

"The vic is a five year old girl," Vartann said quietly. "Madison Evans. Her mother says she heard a struggle – it woke her up. By the time she got to the little girl's room, it was too late. Paramedics pronounced when they got here."

Sara swallowed. "Was the mother the only one home with her?"

"Dad works nights," he said. "He's on his way."

"Enemies?"

"I haven't gotten that far in questioning."

Sara nodded and looked at David. "Let me clear a path first, okay?"

"Take your time."

The house was like any other that was home to children. Toys could be found in every room; pictures of Madison graced nearly every wall. The refrigerator almost captivated Sara; she spent far too much time staring at the pictures affixed to it by magnets. Some were pictures that Madison had colored, but others were of the little girl and her parents. They obviously adored her. Sara smiled as she looked at one of Madison hanging upside down from a tree branch. She was a cute little girl.

She shook herself from her trance, and continued on to Madison's room. It was a little girl's dream, done in pinks and whites. Sara looked around slowly, appreciating the amount of time spent choosing coordinating pieces and fabrics, forgetting for a moment why she was there.

Then, her eyes fell on the bed.

The small girl almost looked as though she were sleeping. She was on her back, her legs curled to one side, her arms spread out as if to hug someone. The gash across her throat and blood pool beneath her seemed oddly out of place.

Sara stepped closer, tears filling her eyes as she looked at Madison's blond curls. The ends were tinged red with the blood that had rushed from her neck. Sara just stopped herself from brushing a strand of hair back from the child's face.

She swallowed hard, trying to get herself under control. She needed to be a professional. She had a job to do.

She sent a text to David, and began processing the room.

* * *

Grissom walked into his bedroom and heard Sara's quiet mumblings. Frowning slightly, he crossed to the bed where she was curled around his pillow. He leaned down and realized that she was once again reciting the multiplication tables in her sleep.

"You never talked in your sleep this much before …" he mused.

He straightened up and got ready for bed. When he climbed into bed next to her, he was surprised to find that she was still saying the number patterns. He leaned over to kiss her, but paused as his noticed the tears that were streaming down her cheeks.

"Sara," he whispered. "What are you dreaming?"

He brushed her tears away, and kissed her cheek.

Sara gasped and jerked, her eyes snapping open and hands flying out to ward him off. Grissom caught her hands in his before she could hit him.

"Hey," he said softly, wrapping his arms around her. "Hey, Sara, it's just me. Calm down. You were having a nightmare."

"Gil," she gasped, trying desperately to bring her breathing back to normal. "God, I'm so sorry! I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No," he said, tightening his arms around her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said, curling herself against him. "I'm fine. Tough case tonight, that's all."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really. I don't want to think about it anymore."

Grissom nodded, his chin bumping the top of her head. "Do you want to tell me about your dream?"

Sara shivered. "I don't really remember it. All I know is that it scared me."

"Yeah, I think I can agree with that," he said. "Sara … you don't … have nightmares often, do you?"

She kissed his chest. "Don't worry about me, Gil. I'm fine."

He hugged her even tighter. "I just want to make sure you stay that way."

"I know. And, I love you for it."

"I love you, too."

"I know." She snuggled deeper into his embrace. "Can we sleep now?"

"If that's what you want."

She nodded against him. "Good night, sweetheart."

"Good night."


	7. Connecting

A/N: Between the G-20 crashing my city and a Jewish holiday, I've had a five day weekend. And, in my world, five day weekends lead to productivity!

This part of Sara and Grissom's life is so difficult and complex. I hope you enjoy the way I'm letting it play out.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episode 806, "Who and What."

* * *

_Connecting_

"Good morning, sunshine."

Grissom smiled at Sara's greeting. "It's not really morning, you know."

"I know. But, you just got up, and we've got some time before you have to be at work."

"Sounds like you have plans for us."

"I do," Sara replied. "We're going to have dinner together and watch a movie."

Grissom grinned and kissed her cheek. "See? Having separate nights off isn't such a terrible thing. You're still here when I wake up, and you can entertain me until I have to leave."

Sara smiled. "You're right. I just miss you when you're gone."

"I miss you, too, honey," he said, wrapping his arms around her from behind. "Did you sleep better last night?"

Sara stiffened in his arms. "What do you mean?"

"When I got home the other day, you were having a terrible nightmare."

"I'm fine, Gil," she said, stepping out of his embrace.

"Yeah, Sara, you said that then, too, but –"

"Why is this an issue?" she asked, turning around to face him, her eyes beginning to snap. "I don't give you a hard time over every nightmare you have!"

"Sara, calm down," Grissom said, reaching out a placating hand to her. "It's not just the nightmares, okay? It's that you're talking in your sleep more, that you've always had problems with insomnia, and that you're trying to adjust to an entirely different schedule. Just moving from grave to swing would be enough to keep you from getting enough sleep. I just … I don't want you to get too run down. I'm worried about you."

"Gil," Sara sighed, feeling the fight leave her in the face of his concern. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine. I'll admit that it's tough to adjust to a different schedule, but I'm making it. If I really feel like I can't sleep, I'll try taking some OTC meds for it, okay?"

"I'd feel better if you'd see a doctor."

"For insomnia? Please. I've been dealing with it for years."

Grissom smiled. "I thought I was enough to cure your insomnia."

Sara winked. "Well, maybe you'll have to try to wear me out a little before bed."

"I think I can handle that," he said, reaching for her.

"No, no," Sara said, laughing as she stepped out of his reach. "You just got out of bed. I don't want you back there yet. Movie first."

"As you wish, my dear."

Still chuckling, Sara took his hand and led him to the living room. The Chinese take out she had ordered for dinner was already laid out on the coffee table, and the DVD she had selected was ready to be put in the player. Grissom's eyes softened.

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?"

"For doing this for us," he explained. "Thank you for giving us a date night."

Sara smiled and flushed slightly as she set up the DVD. "I hardly ever get to see you anymore. I wanted to make the most of tonight."

"Oh, honey, we'll _definitely_ make the most of it."

Giggling at the suggestive waggling of his eyebrows, she joined him on the couch. Grissom smiled at her and took her hand.

"This is nice."

"Yeah," Sara said, snuggling up next to him. She leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Very nice."

Exchanging a smile, they settled in to enjoy their movie together.

* * *

Two days later, their idyllic afternoon was but a memory. Grissom's team had been joined by the FBI on a case when a bloody handprint Catherine recovered at a crime scene was found to be linked to the case of a missing child from New York. When they determined that the elusive murderer and kidnapper was a serial killer, Grissom started to wonder if he'd ever see his house again.

Never a fan of working with the FBI, he wondered if there was any way to teach Jack Malone, the special agent assigned to their case, some patience. The man ran from one thing to the next so quickly that they barely had time to give him results gleaned from their evidence.

"Grissom!"

Grissom sighed, slowing his steps so that Malone could catch up to him. "Agent Malone."

"Listen, you need more A/V people," he said as they walked into his office. "I just talked to the guy you have in there – Archie, right? – about the surveillance tapes the casino sent over. He said he's got over twelve hours of video to go through. That's going to take days! We don't have that kind of time!"

"Archie's the best we have," Grissom said. "If you want it done right, he's your man."

"I want it done _right_," Jack said testily, "but, I'd also like it done _quickly_."

Grissom sighed again. "I'll call in some additional A/V techs to help Archie get through the footage," he conceded as they walked into his office. "But, you know, I've learned that sometimes you can go faster by going slow."

"Yeah, well, I like to go faster by going fast," Malone shot back. "Waiting around's not exactly my best thing."

"I gathered that from your interrogation technique," Grissom said. "You know, maybe you should go back to your hotel … take a _nap_."

Malone barely heard him; he was looking around in shock. "Is this your office? Really? By choice? It's not some kind of surplus overflow issue?"

"What's wrong with my office?" Grissom asked, looking around.

"Oh, I don't know. Uh, why don't you tell me?" Malone said, putting on his glasses and leaning closer to get a better look at Grissom's fetal pig.

"That's an irradiated fetal pig," Grissom explained. "I used it to determine the effects of radiation on tissue."

"For what?" Jack asked, straightening up.

Grissom looked at him as though he had lost his mind. "For fun."

The tension was broken by the arrival of a most welcome visitor.

"Hey, Gil, I –" Sara stopped abruptly as she realized Grissom wasn't alone. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"No, no, it's fine," Grissom said. "Jack Malone, FBI; Sara Sidle, CSI."

"Hi," Jack said, inclining his head a fraction.

"Hello," Sara said with a slight smile. "I hear your abduction case is now a serial murder."

"Yeah," Jack said, glancing back at Grissom before looking at Sara again.

Seeing that Special Agent Malone was clearly not the chatty sort, Sara decided to deliver her message to Grissom and leave them alone.

"Well," she said, looking back at her fiancé, "I got called in to work early, but I did pick up Hank, and I took him to the sitter."

"Thank you," Grissom said. He had planned to pick the dog up from the groomer after work; but, considering how many hours he had been working, it was probably better this way. He gave Sara a slight smile. "I'll see you when I see you."

Sara returned his smile and waved before leaving his office. She could hear Malone asking if Hank was Grissom's child as she walked down the hall. She chuckled to herself. _Almost_.

"Hey, Sara, thanks for coming in," Doug said, catching up with her in the hallway.

"No big deal," she replied. "What can I do for you?"

"Detective Bejarano needs a CSI," he said. "A couple of kids found a badly beaten man. We can't get in touch with the wife."

Sara's eyes widened. "Okay. Is Ronnie here yet or …?"

"I couldn't get her here early," Doug said. "If you don't mind starting by yourself, I'll send her after you when she gets in."

"Fine," Sara said. "I'm on it."

"Thanks again, Sara," Doug said. "Keep me updated."

"I will."

* * *

"Hey, Sara," Detective Bejarano said as she approached. "No tag-along today?"

Sara smiled. "She'll be here later. What have we got?"

"Our vic is a man who was attacked in his home," he said. "He made it through the beating and crawled out of the house to find help. He's at the hospital now, but the doctors aren't giving much hope for his survival."

"No sign of the suspect around the property," another officer said as he joined them.

"Okay, we've got to go in," Bejarano said. He knocked loudly on the door. "LVPD!"

The door fell open. Bejarano glanced back at Sara, who was already drawing her weapon.

"Careful," he cautioned. "Kid who found the old man said he lives here with his wife. She doesn't answer."

"Think the suspect's still in here?" Sara asked quietly.

"We'll know in a minute," Berjarano replied. He glanced back at Sara again. "You'd better wait here."

Sara stepped back without a fight. The memory of being reamed out by both Brass and Grissom for going into an apartment before the police had cleared it years before was enough to keep her rooted in place. The uniforms could do their job, and then she'd do hers.

She looked down, and noticed a blood trail. She frowned and began taking hesitant steps to follow it.

"Sara!"

Her head snapped up, and she followed the sound of Berjarano's voice into the living room. He was looking over the sofa with an expression of sorrow. Sara stepped up next to him, and looked down at the lifeless body of the beaten man's wife. Most of her body and part of her face were obscured; she had been covered with a blanket.

"Oh, no," Sara sighed.

"I'll call it in," Berjarano said.

Sara stepped closer and looked down at the marks on the part of the woman's face she could see. She was still staring at her when the detective joined her.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"Killed in her own home … covered with a blanket … those marks look like she could have been hit with a hammer …" She looked up at him. "I think this is another victim of the serial killer Grissom's team is after. The scene looks an awful like theirs from yesterday."

Berjarano nodded. "Call him in."

Sara stepped away from the body and took out her phone. It only rang once before Grissom answered.

"Hi," he said cheerfully.

"Hey," Sara said. "Listen, I think I need you at my scene. It looks like your serial may have found another victim."

"Oh, no," Grissom said. "I'm on my way."

* * *

Sara was still waiting for the coroner and had started processing the house when Grissom arrived.

"Hey," he said as he walked into the kitchen. "I just saw Berjarano outside; he updated me on everything."

"Body's over there," Sara said, indicating the living room.

Grissom crossed the short distance and sighed. "Yeah," he said. "Same basic thing. Have you started processing in here yet?"

"Not yet," Sara replied.

"Hi," Doc Robbins said as he entered the room. "How's everyone?"

"David's not here?" Sara asked in surprise.

"We're a little backed up today."

She nodded and went back to photographing the credit cards she found in neat stacks on the counter.

"Did you already get all the shots you need of the body?" Doc Robbins asked, crouching down next to the victim.

"Yes," Sara replied. "It's all yours."

Grissom knelt down on the opposite side of the body from the coroner, pulling on a pair of gloves. He reached beneath the sofa and picked up a bloody hammer.

"Does the victim have circular indentations on her head?" he asked.

"Yeah," Doc Robbins replied. "You want to do the autopsy, too? Just let me know."

"My guess is this is the hammer we didn't find at the Davis house."

"Why take the murder weapon from one scene, walk around with it for more than a day, use it to kill again, but this time, leave it behind?" Al asked.

"Maybe he found something better," Sara replied. She opened the gun case she had been photographing in the kitchen. "Colt .45 auto. The case is empty."

"Huh," Grissom said, joining her. He looked down at the credit card stacks, noticing that the drivers' licenses were on top. "He lost the proceeds from the Vegas murders at the Tangiers," he said, opening the woman's empty wallet. "So, he probably needed more cash."

"Double murder ATM," Robbins said.

"Drivers' licenses on top, like before," Grissom said, touching one stack.

"He likes to know their names," Sara said.

"I heard the husband died at the hospital," Robbins said, taking the liver temp of their victim. "But, the killer was definitely here awhile. According to liver temp, she died a couple of hours before the husband."

"So …" Sara began slowly, her voice very soft, "the husband was here and alive while his wife was being raped and killed?"

"It looks that way."

Horror rose up inside of Sara. She couldn't stand to be in the house anymore. She had to get out. She grabbed her kit and the evidence they had already bagged, and rushed out of the house.

"Sara?"

She should have known he would follow her. She stopped at the end of the driveway and turned to face Grissom.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I don't know," Sara said, her voice husky with unshed tears. She glanced away for a moment, then looked back at him. "Do you have any idea how he selects his victims?"

"No," Grissom said quietly, his heart breaking as he watched Sara fight for control. It had been so long since he had seen her like this. "He picks houses with no security systems or dogs, enters at night, when most people are asleep, though open doors or windows." He looked at her closely, willing her to see how _they_ could never be one of the killer's victims. "Easy targets."

"So, basically, at random?"

Grissom nodded.

"They were spending a night on the sofa, watching a movie," Sara said. Her face twisted with the memory of doing the same thing only days before. "It's just …" She was losing her battle for control. She turned from Grissom, not wanting him to see the tears in her eyes. "It's just wrong."

She went to her SUV, yanking the door open and throwing her evidence and kit inside. She sat down and braced her hands on the steering wheel, taking deep breaths until she felt she could control her voice again. She picked up her phone with shaking hands and called Doug.

"Reynolds."

"Hey, Doug, it's Sara."

"Sara," he said. "How's the case going?"

"Well, it turns out that it's part of grave's serial case," she said. "I had to call Grissom in, so he's taking over the investigation and –"

"I'll send Jason in to take your place," he said at once. "He just wrapped his last case."

"Great," she said, relieved that he had saved her the trouble of explaining that she couldn't report to Grissom. "I'll just come back to the lab, then?"

"Yeah, do that. I'm sure we can find something for you to do with the rest of your shift."

"Yeah," Sara said. "Thanks."

"See you when you get here."

"See you."

Sara closed her phone and tossed it onto the passenger seat. She took another two deep breaths, then turned on the car and drove back to the lab.

* * *

The rest of the shift was a blur for Sara. Doug sensed that something was wrong; he told her to work on processing evidence from her open cases and let the rest of the team handle new calls. Sara was glad to be able to lose herself in small details for a few hours until her shift ended and she could go home.

She stopped to pick up Hank on the way; he was overjoyed to see her. His exuberant greeting nearly brought tears to her eyes. She fought for control until they were inside their house. As soon as the door closed behind her, she burst into tears.

Hank crowded close to her, pressing his head against her leg. Sobbing, Sara dropped to her knees and hugged him tightly.

"Oh, God, Hank," she sighed, trying to stop crying. "What is wrong with me? Why can't I stop thinking about that poor couple? Why can't I stop thinking that it could have been _us_? There's no _reason_ behind it … none at all. That man…watching a serial killer rape and murder his wife…" She trailed off and swallowed hard. "I can't stand the idea … I just …"

She got up abruptly and went into the bathroom. She turned on the shower, making it as hot as she could handle. Stripping off the clothes she had worn to work was somewhat healing; a long, ridiculously hot shower would make her feel better. It always had …

She sobbed again as memories of the violence she had seen as a child crashed through her mind. Her father's flying fists … her mother's pain cries … her hiding places …

_Why can't I get away from it? When will it end? _

* * *

When Grissom got home, he found Sara curled up in a ball on their bed. He knew before he even crossed the room that she wasn't asleep. Kicking off his shoes, he lowered himself onto the bed and pulled her into his arms.

Sara clung to him, burying her face in his chest. They both remained silent for a long time.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Grissom finally asked.

Sara didn't immediately respond. Conflicting emotions seemed to tear her apart.

_Yes. I want to talk about it. I want to make you understand that this is a dangerous town, and we have a dangerous job, and we can't keep doing this if we're going to have a family. _

_No. I can't tell you. I can't look you in the eyes and tell you that the thing that brought us together is tearing me apart. I can't let you know that I'm doing what you've always told me not to do. I'm identifying with the victims. I'm losing perspective. I'm more concerned with the why than the how. _

_I can't let you worry about me._

It was the last thought that won out above all the others.

"No," she said. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You're sure?" Grissom asked.

"I'm sure," she sighed, snuggling deeper into his embrace. "I just want to feel your arms around me and know that I'm safe."

"You are safe," he said. "I'll always keep you safe."

_Which is probably the same thing that our vic told his wife._

"I know," she said.

"I love you, Sara," he said, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice.

She leaned up and pressed a kiss against his lips. "I love you, too."


	8. Crumbling

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Crumbling_

Sara awoke to find her bed empty. She frowned slightly, wondering why Grissom wasn't sleeping next to her. Her unasked question was answered in an instant; the smell of French toast permeated the air. Smiling slightly, she pulled herself out of bed. As she walked to the kitchen, she ran through dates in her mind, trying to remember what Grissom would want to celebrate by making her French toast without insisting upon having her help.

"Good morning," she said as she entered the kitchen.

Grissom smiled at her. "Aren't you the one who always yells at me for saying good _morning_ when it's really _afternoon_?"

"Well, French toast is breakfast food," Sara said. "Does that make it count as morning?"

"If you want it to," Grissom said, carrying the platter of French toast to the table he had already set. "Would you like to eat?"

Sara nodded and picked up the two full coffee mugs on the counter before joining him at the table. She set one by each of their plates.

"Okay, I give up," she said as she sat down.

"Um … what?" Grissom asked, his face bemused.

"I can't figure it out," she said. "I don't remember what today is."

"Wednesday," Grissom said, his expression becoming anxious. "Are you okay, Sara? Do you –"

"I'm fine!" Sara cut him off. "I know it's Wednesday. I just meant, I don't remember what the occasion is. What are we celebrating with your mother's French toast? Please, just tell me."

"Ah," Grissom said, the anxious look only slightly leaving his eyes. "It's not an occasion, honey."

"Uh-oh," Sara said. "I already don't like the way this is going."

"The case I've been working with the FBI is going back to New York," Grissom began.

"And, you want to go with it."

"I do," Grissom admitted. "But, I wanted to talk to you about it first."

Sara smiled, knowing that the Grissom of a year ago would never have thought to talk to her before agreeing to take the trip to New York to finish the case.

"You're smiling," he said hesitantly. "What does that mean?"

"Go," she said.

Grissom's eyebrows shot up. "You want me to go?"

"I know you," she said. "You won't be happy until you finish the case. If you need to be in New York to do that, then I think you should go."

"Sara … are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

He reached across to take her hand. "I'm not completely comfortable with the idea of leaving you alone."

"I won't be alone," she said. "Hank will be here with me."

"Hank is a dog, Sara."

"I know that. But, he _will_ be here with me. Besides, I'm sure I'll spend most of the time you're gone working." She winked at him. "With you gone, I can even ask Doug to loan me out to grave. Catherine will be supervising, and I'll get to work with the guys."

Grissom exhaled slowly. "All right. If you're sure."

"I'm sure. Just … be careful while you're there, okay?"

"I will," he promised. "I'll come home to you. Always."

She smiled. "I'm counting on that."

* * *

Grissom had only been gone a few hours when Sara missed him. At first, it wasn't so bad. She got home from work, took the dog for a walk and straightened up the house. After that, she suddenly felt lost without him.

"You're being silly," she told herself. "Even if he were still in Vegas, he wouldn't be home for hours yet. What would you normally do?"

The blankness that filled her head was almost embarrassing. Had she become so used to living with Grissom that she had forgotten how to live by herself? Shaking her head, she realized that she needed dinner. If she lost any more weight while Grissom was gone, he'd have a heart attack. He had been very focused on her weight and her food intake since … Natalie.

Sara went into the kitchen, intent upon making herself dinner. She opened the refrigerator, smiling at the picture of them with the Golden Gate Bridge that hung on the front of it, and stared into its depths. Nothing in it was remotely appetizing.

Sighing, she closed the refrigerator door. _Mom would be proud_. She could easily remember being scolded as a child for staring into the refrigerator as though hoping something she would want to eat would magically appear.

"I guess I need to go out to find something for dinner," she told Hank. "What should I get?"

He looked up at her for a minute, then dropped his head onto his front paws in preparation for a nap. Sara smiled.

"Some help you are. Now I'll have to decide on the way there … wherever _there_ is."

She grabbed her keys and her purse. As she walked out the front door, she was struck by inspiration. She'd go to her favorite vegetarian restaurant in the strip mall on the way to the lab. She hadn't been there in ages … not since … Natalie.

"Maybe I shouldn't," she whispered. "It might be …"

Anger filled her. She loved that restaurant, and she missed it. She missed both the food and the people. She couldn't let Natalie take that from her. She had to be stronger than that – she had to live her life without fear.

"I'm going," she said out loud. "I'm going to go, and I'm going to enjoy myself."

She managed to talk herself up enough to make excitement course through her as she drove to the mall. She mentally went through the menu, trying to decide what she'd order. After changing her mind three times, she made herself stop thinking about it. She would have to make a last-minute decision.

She made the last turn, and the parking structure loomed before her. Nervous tingles began to shoot through her. She shook her head, trying to shake off her nerves.

"It's no big deal," she whispered to herself, turning into the garage and stopping to get a ticket. "No big deal."

As the mechanical arm rose to admit her to the structure, her heart began to pound. She took deep breaths as she drove around the garage looking for an open space. Her hands shook as she parked and turned off her car.

"You can do this, Sara," she whispered. She took another deep breath as she unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car.

The warm, desert air hit her immediately, but she felt cold. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying futilely to bring some warmth to them. She was still shaking as she walked to the elevator, and didn't stop even when she stepped off at the mall level.

Her heart was pounding and her head was swimming as she walked to the restaurant. _This was a mistake, this was a mistake. _

Finally reaching her destination, Sara opened the door to the restaurant. The familiar smells of her favorite foods did not bring the comfort she had envisioned; to her surprise, her stomach turned. She swallowed, trying to decide if she should stay or go home.

"Sara!"

Her decision was made. She forced a smile.

"Hello."

"Oh, my goodness, it's good to see you!" Heidi, the hostess who was usually working when Sara went to the restaurant, ran to hug her. "We've missed you around here!"

"I've missed you, too," Sara said, returning the embrace.

Heidi pulled back and looked at her critically. "You're working too hard," she said. "You look pale. You need some sleep – and, something with protein." She grabbed a menu. "Are you staying to eat tonight?"

"No," Sara said quickly. The idea was terrifying. "No, I'm taking my food to go."

"Okay," Heidi said, obviously disappointed. "I know you want the humus and pita. But, what else can we get you tonight?"

The idea of getting anything she had ever eaten there made Sara's stomach churn. "Do you have any new items?"

"Of course!"

Heidi launched into a lengthy description of everything they had added to the menu since her last visit. Sara managed to cling to one of the names; she ordered that.

"It'll just be a minute," Heidi said after she rang up Sara's order. "Have a seat."

Sara nodded and sat down in the waiting area. After taking several deep breaths, she managed to calm her racing heart, but her hands wouldn't stop shaking. Even the enthusiastic welcome she received from every server who walked past her wasn't enough to help her fully get over her sense of panic.

"Here's your order," Heidi said as she presented Sara with the restaurant's signature bright green bag. "I hope you like it."

"I'm sure I will," Sara said, accepting the food. "Thanks, Heidi. Have a great night."

"You, too, Sara. I hope we see you again soon!"

Smiling noncommittally, Sara left with her to go bag clutched tightly in her hand. Her grip tightened as she stepped onto the elevator, and tightened even more as she stepped off it. Her heart began to pound again, and she started shaking uncontrollably. Sweat beaded along her forehead, and she was suddenly freezing again. Taking a deep breath, she began walking to her car. She walked faster and faster until she was nearly running.

At last, she closed in on her parking space. She frantically pressed the button on her key to unlock the doors, and nearly dove into the car. As soon as she sat down, she locked the car and buckled her seatbelt.

She had never driven out of a parking structure so fast in her life.

Sara took deep, slow breaths as she drove home, trying to get herself under control. By the time she reached her front door, she felt much better.

"I made it," she whispered as she walked inside.

She put the bag of food down on the table, and lifted out the containers. She opened them, and immediately began to shake again. Her stomach heaved, and she ran to the bathroom, just making it before she was sick.

After she flushed the toilet, she curled up on the floor, shaking and sobbing. It was a long moment before she was collected enough to stand up, splash cold water on her face and brush her teeth.

She walked slowly back into the kitchen. Looking at the food, even from a slight distance, made her gag. She swept the containers back into the bag, and threw the whole thing into the trash. Then, she took the trash out. She couldn't stand the idea of having that food in her house another minute.

Once she was back inside, she felt exhausted. She went into the bedroom, stripped off her clothes and collapsed into bed. Clutching Grissom's pillow to her chest, she cried herself to sleep.

* * *

Eyes. Warm, smiling, blue eyes. Grissom's eyes.

Sara smiled as her vision expanded and Grissom's entire face appeared before her, smiling at her. He drew closer and closer to her until his twinkling, blue eyes were all she could see again.

Then, they changed. Grissom's eyes were gone. In their place, cold, crazed eyes stared at her. Natalie's eyes.

Her heart began to pound. Why would Natalie be there, in the place Grissom had so recently left? Where was he? Why …?

The eyes morphed again, and became her father's. They were cold. Angry.

The eyes faded into the distance, and Sara was surrounded by blackness. Silence closed in around her. It as broken by the sound of an open palm striking a cheek, and her mother's cry of pain. Her own voice echoed in her head, reciting multiplication tables.

With a gasp, Sara woke up. She was in her bed, drenched in a cold sweat, clutching her blankets. She slowly eased her grip on the blankets, and realized her hands were shaking.

"Oh, God," she moaned. "I'm no better now than I was then. I'm no braver now than I was as a little girl." Tears began to fall fast. "It's like I'm scared of the dark."

She _was_ scared. Like the little girl she had been, she found herself unable to banish the feelings of fear and foreboding. Afraid to shut her eyes, afraid to let herself dream again, Sara lay awake until it was time to go to work.

* * *

Twenty-four hours later, Sara found herself waking from another nightmare. Gasping and shaking, she once again willed her heart to return to its normal pace.

"I can't do this," she said, pushing her hair back from her face. "I can't keep this up. I can't be afraid of my own dreams. I need …"

She reached across her nightstand for her phone. She stared at it for a long minute.

Although it had been her initial impulse when she picked up her phone, calling Grissom was out of the question. He had been nervous enough about leaving her. If she told him that nightmares were keeping her up, he'd be on the next flight home. And, while she wanted nothing more than to feel his arms around her, she couldn't make him upend his entire life for her.

Shaking her head, she opened her phone. There was someone else she could call … someone who'd be able to help her almost as much as Grissom. Someone who knew what she was going through, and who'd be able to tell her when her nightly torment would end.

He'd be awake. He was likely just getting off work. Sara listened patiently as the phone rang three times before it was answered.

"Hello?"

"Nicky?"

"Hey, Sar," Nick said with a grin that carried over the phone lines. "What's up?"

"I … um … wanted to ask you something."

"Sure. Go ahead."

Sara took a deep breath, but it didn't stop her voice from shaking. "Nicky, can you tell me … when the nightmares will stop?"

Nick felt as though he had been sucker-punched. "Sar …"

Tears began to slide down her cheeks. "I just … Nicky, I just want to be able to sleep again."

"Are you at home now?"

"Yes."

"Alone?" _Grissom's still in New York … oh, Sara … _

"Hank is here."

Nick nodded. _Thought so. _"I'll be there in ten minutes."

"No, Nick, you don't have to …"

It was too late. He had already hung up.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Sara's doorbell rang. She had already moved to the couch in preparation for Nick's visit; as the bell sounded, she got up and crossed to open the door. Hank raced to it with her, nearly knocking her down in his attempts to protect her from her visitor. Sara automatically grabbed his collar as she opened the door.

"Hey," she said.

Nick looked at her for only a second before stepping forward and pulling her into a tight hug. Sara clung to him, fighting the new tears that flooded her eyes. It was a long moment before she could regain her composure.

Sara finally pulled away from Nick and gave him a lopsided smile. "You really didn't have to come over, you know."

"Yes, I did," he said, looking at her with the same anxious expression Grissom so often wore of late.

Sara nodded slightly. "Come in."

Nick followed her into the living room, and they sat down together on the sofa. He remained silent, wanting to wait until she was ready to talk.

Sara drew a deep breath. "Did you have nightmares after …?"

"Yes," Nick said without hesitation. "To tell you the truth, I still do sometimes."

Sara's face fell. "So, there's no end in sight?"

"I didn't say that," Nick said quickly. "Right now, it's still fresh. It's still so easy to remember every detail, and it's so hard to _stop_ remembering. During the day, sometimes, you can stop. You get distracted with work or something someone says or a show on tv, and, suddenly, you realize you haven't thought about it in hours. But, at night, you have no control. You sleep, and your mind does what it wants. And … that's scary. Really, really scary."

"I don't want to sleep," Sara nearly whispered. "I don't want to sleep, because I know that when I do, I'll wake up terrified and shaking and …"

"It's scary," Nick said again. "But, you'll beat it, Sara. I know you will. You're so strong. If you can live through everything you lived through during those eighteen hours, I know you can live through this. And, you'll come out an even more amazing person on the other side."

"I hope you're right, Nick," Sara said, feeling a tear slide down her cheek.

"I am," he said confidently. "I know I am." He looked at her closely. "Sara … Grissom knows about this, right? He knows about your nightmares and about … everything?"

"Sort of."

"What do you mean, _sort of_?"

"He's seen me wake up from a couple nightmares," Sara said slowly.

"But … he doesn't know … everything?"

Sara shook her head.

Nick exhaled. "Sar, you've got to tell him. He needs to know."

Terror filled Sara's eyes. "No. No, Nick, he can't know! You can't tell him."

"Sara …"

"Nicky, please, promise me you won't tell Grissom."

Nick held up his hands in surrender. "It's not my place. It's not the sort of thing he should hear from me. But, Sara, he _needs_ to hear it from you."

Sara shook her head forcefully. "No."

"Why not?" Nick asked, clearly bewildered. "He'd be able to help you – he'd _want_ to help you –"

"I don't want that," Sara said. "He's so worried about me already. I don't want to make him worry anymore. I don't want him to feel like he has to pick me up and put me back together. I can deal with this. He doesn't need to."

"Sara, call me crazy, but it's pretty clear the guy loves you. The picking you up and putting you back together … he'd _want_ to do it for you, because that's what people do for the ones they love."

"But, I don't want him to. I don't … I don't want him to see me like that. I just …" Tears began to slide down her cheeks in earnest. "I just want him to be here with me, holding me in his arms. That's enough. He makes me feel better just by being him."

"But, Sara –"

"_No_, Nicky."

Nick sighed. "All right. The decision is yours."

"Thank you."

He nodded. "Now, what can I do to help?"

Sara gave him a small smile. "You've done it."

Nick looked confused. "I haven't done anything."

"Yes, you have. You've done more than you'll ever know, just by being you."

He gave her a slight smile. "When does Grissom come home, darlin'?"

"Tomorrow."

"Do you … do you want me to stay with you until then? So you won't have to be home alone?"

Sara shook her head slowly. "I really, really appreciate that, Nick, but … I need to be alone for the next day. I need to prove to myself that I can do it."

"Sara, I meant what I said about you being strong, but … you're allowed to rely on your friends, too. That's why we're here."

"I know that," she said. "And, if I need you, I'll call. Believe me."

"Are you kicking me out?" Nick teased.

"Maybe … a little."

"Okay, I can take a hint." Nick stood up. "You'll call me? For _anything_?"

"I will. I promise," Sara said, getting up to walk him to the door.

Nick paused in the doorway to look deeply into her eyes. "A lot of people love you, Sara. We're all here for you."

Tears filled her eyes again. "I know. I love you guys, too."

Nick nodded and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Sleep _well_."

"I'll do my best."


	9. Numb

A/N: Sorry about the serious lapse in updating! I got busy with real life, then got hit with the dreaded swine flu. I'm feeling much better now, but I definitely spent a week in various stages of being out of it. Hopefully, now that I've recovered, I'll be back to updating at least once a week again!

Thanks for reading and reviewing, and for your patience!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episode 807, "Goodbye and Good Luck." I also do not own iPod. _An_ iPod, yes. The brand, no.

* * *

_Numb_

_Connecting flights should be banned._

Grissom's mental grumbling about the evils of air travel had taken him all the way from New York to Las Vegas. His itinerary had forced him to endure two connections. Under normal circumstances, it would not have been a problem. He didn't mind getting off the plane to stretch his legs while racing through the airport to his next flight.

However, his flight out of New York had been delayed. That meant amusing himself for three hours in La Guardia before leaving for Atlanta. By the time he reached Atlanta, he had missed his connection, and had to wait another five hours for the next available flight to Chicago, where he missed his connection to Las Vegas. All told, he arrived at McCarran sixteen hours behind schedule.

The only positive thing he could find in all of it was that he had planned to take a cab home from the airport from the very beginning. His initial arrival time was scheduled at the beginning of Sara's shift; although she had offered to ask for the time off to pick him up, he had refused to allow it. He was perfectly capable of hailing a cab. Given how his flight had been delayed, his decision seemed even wiser. Although he had called and texted her several times with updates about his arrival time, she had not been forced to change her plans so she would be available to pick him up at an ever-changing time.

As he climbed into the cab, he forced his thoughts away from the long, difficult day of travel, and focused on seeing Sara. He could hardly wait to tell her about his time in New York working with the FBI, and to hear about all she had done in his absence. Their short phone conversations had not been nearly good enough.

He watched as familiar landmarks sped past until the cab stopped outside his house. Finally, he was home.

"Thanks," Grissom said, pulling the bills from his wallet to pay the fare.

"Need help with your bags?" the driver asked.

"No, thank you."

"All right, then," the man said. "Have a nice day."

"You, too."

As the cab drove away, Grissom made his way to the front door. He waved to Kelly, who was outside weeding her flowerbed, and let himself into the house.

An overwhelming sense of peace washed over Grissom as he walked into his home. He closed the door quietly behind him, thinking that Sara would likely be asleep. It was ironic, really, considering that he should have arrived home while she was just beginning her work day.

Hank bounded out to meet him; Grissom patted his head in greeting.

"Hey, buddy," he said softly. "We have to be quiet so we don't wake Sara up." He grabbed the dog's head between his hands, shaking it back and forth. "Did you miss me?"

After patting Hank's head again, Grissom released the dog. Setting his keys and bag down, he kicked off his shoes and stole through the house to the bedroom.

To his great surprise, Sara wasn't asleep. She was sitting up in bed, watching television.

"You're awake," Grissom said.

Sara looked up to see him framed in the doorway, and a wide smile crossed her face. "You're back! I didn't hear you come in!"

"I was trying to be quiet so I wouldn't wake you up."

Sara smiled. "You should know better than to think that I sleep."

Grissom crossed the room quickly and sat down on the bed with her, pulling her into a kiss. He broke it after a moment, and she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. He smiled, returning the embrace.

"Miss me?" he teased.

Having him with her, feeling his arms around her … Sara finally felt safe again. She didn't answer his question. Instead, she swallowed hard in an effort to banish the tears that wanted to run down her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around Grissom even tighter, and squeezed her eyes closed.

"Hey," Grissom said, pulling back enough to look at her, "are you okay?"

Sara nodded. "I'm fine. I just … I guess I missed you more than I thought."

Grissom smiled slightly. "I'm not sure if that was a compliment or an insult."

"Well, either way, I missed you."

"I missed you, too," Grissom said. "You should have come with me. You would have had fun in New York."

"Yeah, I probably would have," Sara agreed.

Grissom kissed her again. "Did you have fun here?"

"Not particularly," Sara said, kissing him again. "But … I'd like to have some fun now that _you're_ here."

"I think that can be arranged." Grissom kissed her again, gently pushing her back on the bed.

Sighing with complete contentment, Sara pulled him even closer. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

_Water … surrounding her … rushing over her head … covering her … burying her … drowning her …_

With a gasp, Sara woke up. She took in deep gulps of air and willed her heart rate back to normal.

Out of recently acquired habit, she started to reach for Grissom's pillow, but her hands were almost immediately stopped by something very solid. Shaking her head to clear the last remnants of the dream away, Sara looked to see what was blocking her path to Grissom's pillow.

She drew a breath in sharply. _Grissom_ was blocking her path to his pillow. Grissom's arm was holding her against his chest. Grissom was cuddling her close, providing her with the comfort, love and support that normally kept her terrible dreams at bay.

Shaking slightly, Sara burrowed closer to his chest. If Grissom couldn't keep her nightmares away … What could?

* * *

After sleeping dreamlessly for the rest of the night, Sara was able to put the nightmare behind her. After all, she had had plenty of terrible dreams with Grissom next to her in bed. As always, waking up and snuggling into his embrace had chased her terror away and made her feel safe again.

"Good morning."

Sara looked up to see Grissom smiling at her. She smiled and buried her face in his chest for a moment.

"Hi," she said. "How long have you been watching me sleep?"

"A few minutes," he replied.

Sara shook her head. "Stalker."

"Not at all." He pressed a kiss against the top of her head. "There is nothing wrong with watching my beautiful fiancée sleep."

"Flattery won't get you out of this one," Sara said. "It's creepy."

Grissom chuckled. "Do you want some breakfast?"

Sara shook her head. "I just want to stay here with you."

Grissom wrapped his arms around her. "I think that can be arranged."

"Good."

"So," Grissom said, "what did you do while I was gone?"

Sara thought for a moment. So many answers to his question shot through her head. The trip to her former favorite restaurant. The nightmares. Nick's midnight visit. His advice.

"_Sar, you've got to tell him. He needs to know."_

_I'm sorry, Nicky. I can't. _"Nothing all that interesting," she said aloud. "I just worked."

"Any good cases?"

She shrugged slightly. "Nothing all that interesting," she said again. "Rape. Murder. Assault. The usual."

Grissom frowned slightly and looked down at the top of her head. "Sara …"

"Tell me about New York," she said quickly.

"Well, I'm not all that interested in working for the FBI," he said with a slight chuckle. "Our lab facilities make theirs look like something in an under-funded high school."

Grissom kept talking, his excitement spilling out with every word as he described the case.

Sara barely heard a word of it.

It surprised her, really. Years before, when she had still lived in San Francisco, one of the most exciting things about getting an email from Grissom was reading about the cases he was working. Her reply emails had always been full of questions about his cases, and descriptions of her own.

Now, she didn't want to tell him about her cases. And, perhaps even more distressingly, she didn't want to hear about his.

_What is wrong with me? Who have I become?_

The questions were too much to bear. Sara tightened the arm that was across Grissom's midsection, and listened as attentively as possible to his story.

Maybe, if she went through the motions long enough, she'd become her old self again.

* * *

"Hey, Sara, I'm sending you out solo tonight."

Sara blinked. "Where's Ronnie?"

"I called her and Jason in early to take a double," Doug explained.

"You could have called me," Sara said, feeling bad for pushing Ronnie off on Jason. "I was just at home today."

Doug winked. "I wanted to give you some time with your man. I know he just got back from New York."

Sara smiled slightly. "Well, thank you. But, I would have come in if you needed me."

"I didn't need you. Jason took care of it."

She nodded, hoping that Jason had been nice to Ronnie – and, able to tolerate her. "So, you have a case for me?"

"Yeah. A homicide. Take coveralls – from what I've heard, it's a messy one."

"Got it," Sara said, taking the assignment slip from him. "I'll see you later."

"Have fun."

Shaking her head at her boss's sardonic sense of humor, Sara went to the locker room to grab her coveralls and boots. She would go prepared, but that didn't stop her from hoping that "messy" was an exaggeration.

* * *

The scene _was_ messy. A man had been shot, execution-style, in his living room. Spatter and blood pools seemed to dominate the space. The only positive Sara could find was that there was only one victim.

She got to work, wishing for the first time in a long time that Ronnie had accompanied her to the scene. It would have gone so much faster with two of them to process.

* * *

After spending hours at her scene, Sara returned to the lab. As she parked her SUV in its assigned space, she realized exactly how bone-tired she was. The idea of dealing with anyone or anything was almost too much to bear. Before leaving the car, she grabbed her iPod. Past experience had taught her that the iPod's earbuds were a perfect way to achieve the solitude she was craving.

It worked like a charm; she made it to the locker room without being bothered by anyone. She pushed the door open and walked into both the room and Warrick. Their collision sent everything he had been carrying flying to the floor.

"Sorry," she said, pulling out her earbuds and bending down to help him pick up his things. She picked up a prescription bottle and, out of habit, read the label. "Oh," she said as they both straightened up. "Zolpidem. That's good stuff."

"Yeah, it's to help you sleep," Warrick said. "I've been having the hardest time lately."

"Me, too," Sara said softly, thinking of the nightmares that had kept her up the night before.

"Well, you're just coming off grave after all these years," Warrick said. He grabbed her shoulder, massaging it in a comforting gesture. "It takes awhile to adjust. You're a tough cookie; I'm not worried about you."

Sara smiled slightly, thinking that Nick had obviously kept his word and his silence. If he were to confide his concern about her to anyone, it would be Warrick.

"Take care of yourself, okay?" Warrick said as he stepped forward to walk past her and leave the locker room.

"Thanks." Sara patted Warrick's shoulder as they walked past each other. She turned once she was fully into the room. "Sweet dreams!" she called.

"Thanks!" Warrick called back from the hallway.

Sara looked down and noticed for the first time the blood that was splattered across her boot. "Oh," she sighed, sitting down to take them off.

"Hey, Sara! You done with your scene?"

She looked up to see Ronnie in the locker room doorway. "Yeah."

"Great, 'cause we just caught another one. Four-twenty-five off Craig Road. Busy shift! But, you know I like that. I'll see you outside, okay?"

"Okay," Sara agreed.

Ronnie left, and Sara took off her shoes. She tossed them in the nearby trashcan, thinking that Catherine, for one, would be glad to see the last of them. She had never liked those particular boots, even though Sara insisted that she only wore them to crime scenes.

Sighing, she opened her locker to pull out new clothes. Maybe wearing something nicer than coveralls would help her feel better about her job.

* * *

Sara and Ronnie drove into the middle class neighborhood, where, it seemed to Sara, nothing like a domestic disturbance should be allowed to occur.

"This looks like the neighborhood where I lived when I was little," Ronnie commented. "Houses are about the same age … swing sets and bikes in the yards. What about you?"

"I lived in a lot of places," Sara said evasively. She parked the car in front of the house in question. "Let's see what we've got."

Officer Akers was waiting for them on the front porch; the door was open in front of him.

"What've you got?" Sara asked.

"Neighbors called in a domestic disturbance between Adam and Kim Jimenez," he said. "I responded; knocked; I didn't get any answer, so I looked through the window, and this is what I saw. Nobody's home, so I called you guys."

Sara and Ronnie looked through the partially-open door to see the trashed house. Both looked past the toppled furniture to the blood spatter and pools. Sara looked back at Ronnie, who nodded. She pushed the door open, and, the angry voices of Grissom and Warrick from several years ago ringing in her head, entered the house ahead of Akers.

"Blood but no body," Sara commented, looking at what appeared to be several different blood trails. She shot the beam of her flashlight around the room. "No sign of the couple."

"No, nothing," Akers agreed as he walked through the first floor.

"Lots of blood activity here," Sara said. She put down her kit to get started with photo documentation.

"Then someone ran out the door," Ronnie said, following a blood trail with her eyes.

Sara and Ronnie both crouched down to get to work, while Officer Akers continued his tour of the house. A creaking sound brought all three of their heads up.

"Stop right there; hands where I can see them!" Akers yelled, holding his gun on the woman who was entering the house.

Sara and Ronnie stood up; Sara grabbed her gun.

"This is my house," the woman said, holding her hands up as she walked slowly into the room.

"Mrs. Jimenez?" Sara asked, replacing her gun in its holster.

The woman nodded.

"Where have you been?" Sara asked.

"My husband and I had an argument," she said slowly. "I went on a walk."

"Where is your husband now?" Sara asked.

"I, uh … I don't know."

Ronnie slowly made her way closer to Mrs. Jimenez; she noticed blood running down the backs of her legs.

"Mrs. Jimenez, are you okay?" she asked.

She nodded slightly. "Bad back."

Ronnie's eyes grew to the size of saucers as she saw the steak knife protruding from the woman's back. "Sara," she said urgently, "she's got a _very_ bad back."

As Ronnie called for paramedics, Mrs. Jimenez turned to look at her. Sara and Akers got their first look at her back. Sara's mouth fell open; Akers put his weapon down for the first time since Mrs. Jimenez had entered the house.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Jimenez," Ronnie said. "We'll make sure you're okay. The paramedics will be here in a few minutes."

"Paramedics?" she asked, frowning slightly.

"Yes," Ronnie said. "You need them for your back."

"Oh …"

"Here," Aker said, righting a chair. "Why don't you sit down?"

She nodded slowly. He helped her sit down, careful to keep the knife away from the back of the chair. Ronnie crossed to Sara, who had not moved.

"What can we do?" she asked.

"We've done it," Sara said, shaking her head. "The paramedics will take care of her."

Ronnie looked at Sara closely, then nodded.

The paramedics arrived quickly, and went to work on Mrs. Jimenez. They taped the wound, keeping the knife in place.

"Mrs. Jimenez, we're going to take you to the hospital," one of them said. "A doctor will need to remove this knife from your back."

"The hospital?" she asked slowly. "But …"

"Just let me in!"

Sara, along with Mrs. Jimenez and the paramedic working on her, looked up as a man walked into the house.

"Baby, are you okay?" he asked softly, crossing the room and stopping in front of her. "Are you all right? Okay? Huh?" He touched her arms; she flinched. "You all right? Yeah?" He touched her face gently. "You called the cops on me?"

"No," she mumbled, shaking her head. "No."

"Did you call the cops on me?" he yelled, grabbing her neck.

"No!" she screamed, trying to twist away from him.

The paramedic who had been standing behind her jumped forward and pulled Mr. Jimenez off her. Mrs. Jimenez gave a scream and leapt out of her chair, intent upon attacking her husband. While Akers, another uniform and the paramedics held Mr. Jimenez back, Ronnie jumped in to grab Mrs. Jimenez.

Sara stood back, watching the scene as though it were a movie playing out in front of her. Part of her was totally detached, as though the people were actors, with no connection to her life. The other was a little girl, watching her parents fight. Either way, there was nothing she could do to make it stop. There was no way to help. There was no difference to make.

Ronnie managed to get Mrs. Jimenez back into her chair; the paramedic knelt down to fix any damage she had done with her quick movements. Ronnie looked at Sara with huge, pleading eyes.

Sara couldn't take it. She couldn't do it anymore. She had to get out.

"Why don't you finish up here?"

Ronnie left the struggling, angry Mrs. Jimenez in the capable hands of the paramedic, and followed Sara. "How are we going to handle this?" she asked.

Sara stopped, turning to look at her. "The guy is under arrest."

"He'll be free by tomorrow!" Ronnie lowered her voice, "Her husband is obviously abusing her. There's gotta be something we can do."

"We'll be back for her body next month," Sara said in a soft, cold, detached voice. "Or his. Or both."

Ronnie looked at her in shock. She had never seen her mentor like this.

Even the horror in Ronnie's eyes wasn't enough to snap Sara into the moment, into _feeling_. "There is nothing you can do about this, Ronnie. Don't kid yourself."

Sara brushed past her without waiting for a reply. She went out to the SUV, put her kit into the back, and slammed the hatch closed. She leaned against it for a moment, and looked at her watch.

_Just a little bit longer. By the time you get back to the lab, Grissom will be there. Then, only a few hours until you can go home. _


	10. Rage

A/N: Life is against me! I know I promised an update sooner than this, but the day after I last posted, my laptop died. So, I had to order a new one and then wait for it to arrive … and for my schedule to give me a free moment to write! As much as I feel like I'm jinxing myself by saying this, I'm pretty sure I'll be able to update next weekend on schedule.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! I hope you like this one.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episode 807, "Goodbye and Good Luck."

* * *

_Rage_

_Aimless. I'm wandering aimlessly. When was the last time I did that?_

Truthfully, she had no idea. Sara was not one to wander aimlessly. Mary, far more poetic than her scientist roommate, had often tried to get Sara to go out for a walk with her to de-stress before or after finals. Sara had always declined, saying that she didn't want to wander aimlessly. It just seemed so … unproductive.

But, she suddenly realized that she had been wandering aimlessly through the lab. No destination. No purpose. Nothing productive in sight.

She stopped as she came upon Grissom's office. She could see him sitting at his desk, working on some paperwork. She smiled slightly. _Look at my man working. _

Grissom looked up and saw her watching him. He waved to her, then waved her in. Assuming that she'd be in front of his desk within seconds, he looked down to sign one last document.

Sara watched him for a moment. He looked busy, but she knew he wouldn't mind the interruption. He had invited her in, after all.

But … she didn't to go in. She didn't want to talk to him.

She was stunned by the revelation. For the first time since she had met him, she had no desire to talk to Gil Grissom. No desire to even sit in his office with him.

The stunned feeling left her, leaving a deep sense of self-disgust. What woman wouldn't want to talk to her fiancé? Unable to fully process all the emotions running through her, she walked away.

Grissom looked up, wondering what was keeping her. She was gone.

After a moment, his initial surprise faded to concern. Sara … something wasn't right with her, and she wasn't talking to him about it. He needed to find her, to talk to her. He needed to find out what was wrong.

Grissom put away his paperwork and left his office in search of Sara. After several minutes of questioning techs, he saw her coming down the hall toward him, holding a file.

"Griss!" she called. "I've been looking for you!"

"I've been looking for you, too," Grissom said. "Listen, we need to talk –"

"Not now," she said. "I need you in the layout room. Nick and Catherine are on their way, too."

"Nick and Catherine?" Grissom asked, frowning. "Sara, you're not working any cases with them. And, you shouldn't be coming to me about your cases at all."

"It's not my case, it's theirs," she said. "Griss … _Marlon West_ killed their college girl who was pushed out a window."

"Whoa, whoa," Grissom said. "You are making almost no sense right now."

"I know," Sara said. "That's why we need to talk to Catherine and Nick. They'll help it all fall together for you."

"Sara, wait," Grissom said, trying to keep up with her as she nearly ran to the layout room. "Marlon West … wasn't he the one you and Nick had on trial for killing a classmate when he was in high school? The one whose little sister threw out enough reasonable doubt that he was found not guilty?"

"She threw out enough reasonable doubt that Nick and I didn't know which way was up," Sara said shortly, walking into the layout room ahead of him.

"Sara …" Grissom began.

"Yeah?" She stood opposite him, putting the layout room table between them.

_I don't like where this is going. _He sighed. "Catherine and Nick are on their way?"

"Right. Nick's bringing the old evidence from the last case."

Grissom nodded helplessly.

As if on cue, Nick and Catherine walked into the layout room. Nick put an evidence box on the table and slit the tape that sealed it with his pocket knife. He and Sara began sifting through it, pulling out everything they thought was relevant.

"Okay, you two, what's going on?" Catherine asked, standing next to Grissom. She looked at him. "Do you know what they're up to?"

"Sara said she found a suspect in your college case," he said.

Catherine's eyebrows shot up. "I thought you were working a domestic with Ronnie?"

"I was," Sara said. "But, Mandy got the print results from your case, and brought them to me."

"May I ask why?" Catherine asked, sparks beginning to jump in her eyes.

"The prints came back to Marlon West."

"Does that mean something?" Catherine asked, frowning.

"Marlon West was on trial for the murder of Stacy Bowman," Nick explained. "He confessed; it was later thrown out on a technicality. But, we really didn't need it. The prosecution's case against Marlon was very strong."

"Until Marlon's little sister, Hannah, got on the stand and confessed to the murder herself," Sara said.

"Oh, yes, I remember this case," Catherine said, calming down. "High school senior at age twelve."

"She's a prodigy," Sara said, a touch of admiration coloring her voice.

"She's a pint-sized Machiavelli," Nick said, hoping to shake her back into the memory of Hannah's final confession. "She manipulated events, fabricated evidence, and, in the end, won a not guilty verdict for her brother. She had the jury totally confused."

"She had _all_ of us totally confused," Sara said angrily. "It wasn't until after it was over that she told me she had made the whole thing up." She took a deep breath, letting herself calm down. "She claimed that she did it because she loved Marlon. Some warped sense of justice. She graduated later that summer, became legally emancipated from her parents and went off to Harvard – pre-med."

Grissom looked at Sara closely, thinking back to forcing a promise never to think of Hannah again from her. "You keeping tabs on her?" he asked as lightly as possible.

"Not recently," Sara said. "Look, accident or no accident, Marlon killed before. Hannah _sunk_ this case, Marlon got a free pass, and now he's killed again."

"Well, we don't know that just yet," Catherine said quickly. "I mean, we don't have Marlon's DNA to compare with the semen that was found in the victim. All the old evidence was expunged with the verdict."

"I want this case," Sara said softly, yet with an edge to her voice that defied Grissom and Catherine to tell her no.

It was the look in her eyes and the tone of her voice … Grissom could see in a heartbeat what this mean to her. "The one that got away?" he asked.

"We're not supposed to let them get away, right?"

Nick looked from Grissom to Sara, knowing that she had just busted out the big guns. There was no way Grissom would say no.

"Okay," Grissom said. "I'll see if I can clear it with Ecklie. Catherine has to supervise, though. You report to her."

"Thank you," Sara said softly.

"Come on," Nick said. "Let's get the evidence out. I'll bring you up to speed."

They went to the evidence locker together, and Grissom looked at Catherine.

"Gil –"

"Don't say it," he said. "I know her perspective is skewed on this one. I know this is probably a terrible idea. But … she _needs_ this, Cath. You could see that, couldn't you?"

"Yeah," Catherine agreed.

"Nick will keep an eye on her," Grissom said.

Catherine nodded. "He's empathetic," she agreed. "And … in a lot of ways … he's been where she is right now."

Grissom nodded. "And … you'll take care of her for me, won't you?"

She smiled. "As much as she'll let me."

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. "That's what I'm afraid of."

* * *

"Okay," Sara said as she and Nick spread the evidence from the latest case on the layout room table. "Bring me up to speed."

"Okay," Nick said. "Our girl is Kira Dellinger. She was a freshman at UNLV. She's from Virginia; Brass just got back from notifying the parents. Greg and I found evidence in her room to suggest that she was Goth, into a straight lifestyle, and sexually active."

Sara shook her head. "That's a pretty wide range of personalities. Was she trying to find herself?"

"Isn't that what college is all about?"

Sara smiled slightly.

"Our initial assumption was that she jumped. David said there's been a rash of jumpers on campus this year, and we figured that she followed the pack. But, I found evidence on the windowsill in her dorm room that suggested that she had been pushed." He slid a photo toward her. "Blood, skin and fibers present on a nail on the window. Catherine and David found a matching scrape on the victim's leg."

"_Definitely_ suggests murder," Sara agreed.

"Yeah, we all agree on that one," Nick said. "So far, we haven't found any leads. No enemies are popping out of the woodwork. She's just a freshman, so she hasn't had time to accumulate a clutch of angry ex-boyfriends yet."

Sara smiled. "Are you saying that she's having a boring first semester?"

Nick looked back at the pictures and shook his head a bit sadly. "Definitely not." He looked up at Sara again. "I'll call Brass, and set up an interview with Marlon. Like Catherine said, we don't know for sure that he was involved, but we do need his DNA for comparison. Even if he didn't have anything to do with this, he's been in her room, which means he must know her pretty well. Maybe he can point us in the direction of her enemies."

"Oh, he had _everything_ to do with this," Sara said, feeling hot anger bubbling up inside her. "He got away with murder once before, so he thought he could again. We have to show him how wrong he was."

"Whoa, Sara, slow down," Nick said. "You're getting ahead of the evidence."

She shook her head in disbelief. "Nicky, you were there with me! You watched as a jury of his peers found Marlon not guilty of murdering that poor girl. You can't say that he doesn't deserve to be brought to justice."

"Not for what happened to Stacy Bowman. Not anymore," Nick said. "We can't try him for that crime again, Sara. The law is very clear on that."

"I know," she said. "But, that doesn't mean we can let him get away with murder again."

"We won't," Nick said firmly, "_if_ he's guilty. But, Sara, listen to me. You have to be prepared to accept the idea that he might just have been in her room because they were dating. He might be heartbroken over her death. He might be totally innocent of this crime."

"I want to go with Brass to interview him," Sara said as though Nick had never spoken.

"I don't know," Nick said slowly. "I thought I could go."

"I want to do this, Nick," Sara said. "I _need_ to do this."

Nick sighed. "Okay. Call Brass. Set it up."

Sara smiled. "I'll take good notes."

"You always do."

* * *

"Okay," Brass said as he and Sara climbed into his car together. "I did a little digging into Marlon's current life. As you may have guessed, he's a student at UNLV."

"Shocking," Sara said sarcastically.

Brass chuckled. "According to the registrar, his chemistry class starts in twenty minutes. I thought we could surprise him there."

"Sounds like fun."

"Yeah, I thought you'd like that – a science class."

Sara smiled. "I'm a physicist, Jim, not a chemist."

"Hey, it's all the same to me," he said.

Sara laughed, and sat back to enjoy their drive.

* * *

The students were still assembling in the lecture hall when Brass and Sara arrived. They walked through the double doors and scanned the crowd for a moment.

"Hey," Brass said. "Want to play good cop, bad cop?"

Sara shook her head. "You always want to be the bad guy. With this kid … I don't think I can play the good guy."

Brass looked at her in surprise. Sara was usually up for acting the part of the nice cop.

"Let's go this way," she said before he could press her further.

They began down an aisle, both searching the backs of the students' heads, hoping that Marlon would appear before them. Brass saw him first; he directed Sara to her left.

Marlon was sitting on the aisle, looking through his textbook as he waited for the class to begin. He looked up as Sara and Brass stopped in front of him. Sara noticed that his lip was bruised and swollen. _Kira's attempt to defend herself?_

"Hello, Marlon," Sara said.

"What are you guys doing here?" he asked.

"We're here to talk to you about Kira Dellinger," Brass said.

Marlon shut his textbook and put it on the empty seat next to him. "Kira committed suicide," he said.

"Actually, she was murdered," Sara said.

Marlon looked at them for a moment. "Somebody I know ends up dead, and I'm automatically a suspect?"

"History has a way of repeating itself, Marlon," Brass said. "You've killed before."

"That was an accident! And, I admitted I was responsible from day one."

"Kira was forced out her dorm window," Sara said. "Your prints were there."

"My prints were there because I've been in there a million times," Marlon said. "Kira and I were in a band."

"Your prints were also found on a tube of sexual lubricant," Sara said.

"Were you having sex with her, Marlon?" Brass asked.

He looked away for a moment before making eye contact again. "Yeah, we were having sex."

"Last night?" Brass pressed.

"No, we had a gig last night. We … we got into a fight."

"Did she give you that fat lip?" Sara asked.

Marlon touched his sore lip. "No, not exactly."

"Well, who did, _exactly_?" Brass asked.

Marlon sighed. "After our gig, I saw some other guy kissing her. I sort of lost it, and pulled them apart. I knocked the guy down. He got up and punched me, okay? He's the one who gave me the fat lip. Kira … she told me to stay out of her life. Then, she left with him. I don't know who the guy was. I had never seen him before. After that, I just wandered the campus most of the night by myself."

"So, you don't have an alibi?" Brass asked.

"I guess I don't."

"I'll tell you what," Sara said. "We will give you the benefit of the doubt, in exchange for this." She pulled a DNA swab from her pocket, and slid it out of its box. "You remember this."

Marlon held her eyes without speaking.

"I assume you have a DNA warrant, Sara?"

Sara looked past Marlon to the slight girl stepping up behind him. Shock raced through Sara. _Hannah._

"Because, if you don't, you certainly don't have his consent. Isn't that right, Marlon?"

Marlon raised his eyebrows in silent acknowledgement and looked away from her.

"Hannah, I heard you were studying back east," Sara said, trying to make sense of this new development. "What are you doing here?"

"Graduate school," she said, brushing between Sara and Brass. "Excuse me."

Sara turned to follow her on her journey to the front of the room. "You are not going to muddy the waters this time," she said.

"Are you sure you'd know if I had?" Hannah asked with the same superiority that had made Sofia distrust Hannah during her first interrogation with her two years prior.

Sara watched in shock as Hannah climbed the steps to the stage.

"You're welcome to stay," she tossed over her shoulder at Sara. "You might learn something."

She pulled the microphone down and instructed the class to open their textbooks. She was the chemistry professor's TA.

Sara felt all the breath leave her body. This _little girl_, this _child_, was playing at being an adult. And, she was fully prepared to go to battle with Sara, Nick, and all of LVPD and CSI again – and, to win.

"Not this time, Hannah," Sara whispered, her face flushing with anger. "Not this time."


	11. Twisted

A/N: I had every intention of ripping off the bandaid today with this chapter. But, alas, that evil little Hannah demanded more (computer) screen time. So, we'll just look at this as the continuation of Sara's final breakdown. I hope you enjoy it!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episode 807, "Goodbye and Good Luck."

* * *

_Twisted_

"Hey, Nick. Where's Sara?"

Nick looked up from the evidence he was processing to see Catherine standing over him. "She went with Brass to interview Marlon West."

"She did _what_?"

"All right, I know, probably not the best idea, but she was very determined." He smiled slightly. "_You_ try telling her no when she gets like that."

Catherine sighed. "Nick, we've got to be careful with Sara. This case … these kids … It's personal for her. _Beyond_ personal, really."

"Yeah, I know," Nick said. "I kind of think she needs this, though. It's like she's going to use it to right the wrongs of the past."

Catherine nodded. "Grissom said something similar." She paused. "He's worried about her."

Concern crept into Nick's eyes. "Yeah. I am, too."

"I promised that we'd take care of her on this case."

"I'll try," Nick said. "I'll do my best, Cath, I promise, but … Sara doesn't like to accept help."

"I know that. But, if anyone can force it on her, you can. I trust you with this, Nicky. And, Grissom does, too."

Nick nodded, wondering if Sara had told Grissom the extent of her nightmares and trauma. "I'll do my best," he said again.

Catherine smiled. "In that case, we'll all be fine."

Nick returned her smile as best he could, wishing he could have her confidence.

* * *

"Okay, so, his attorney of a chemist little sister won't let me have his DNA without a warrant," Sara said as she and Brass walked into PD. "I need that warrant, Jim."

"I don't know, Sara. It's going to be tough to get a warrant," Brass said noncommittally.

"I _need_ Marlon West's DNA," Sara said. "If his semen is in Kira Dellinger, that puts him at the murder."

"Look, they had a known sexual relationship, so there's no evidence of rape," Brass replied. "And, I don't know if you know this, but Marlon's mother and father were killed in a car accident last year."

Sara sucked in her breath. Yes. She had known.

"Judge Bowman is going to be very sensitive to that. It could look like harassment," Brass finished.

"Jim, are you going to talk to the judge, or not?" Sara asked, her suddenly ever-present anger sparking up again.

"Wow, you've really got it out for this kid!" Brass said, stopping and turning to look at her. "What's the deal here, Sara?"

"Marlon West has killed before," she said in a soft, controlled voice.

"Not according to a jury of his peers."

"Did you have fun talking to Kira Dellinger's parents?" Sara asked.

"Excuse me?"

"There must have been a lot of screaming, and crying, and despair …"

"There _usually_ is," Brass said testily. "What's your point, Sara?"

"My point is, if we had done our job right the first time, Marlon West would be in jail, and Kira Dellinger would still be alive." She pushed off the counter she had been leaning on. "Talk to the judge."

Brass watched her walk away in shock. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen her react to a case so strongly.

* * *

"Hey," Nick said as Sara walked into the break room. "How did it go with your buddy?"

"We need a warrant for his DNA," she said.

Nick frowned. "Marlon would never think of something like that, not even after everything that happened before." He smiled slightly. "Don't tell me he's taking some pre-law class."

"No," Sara said shortly. "His _sister_ refused on his behalf. Apparently, she's an attorney now."

Nick's eyes widened. "Hannah was there? I thought you said she was going to Harvard."

"Yeah, well, I was wrong on that. Apparently, she _went_ to Harvard. She's moved on to grad school here in Las Vegas."

"Grad school? Yeesh. What's she studying?"

"Nick! Focus! What difference does it make?"

"Well, potentially, a lot. How well-versed is she in the law?"

"_Nick_!"

Realizing that she was on the verge of hysteria, Nick sobered. "Sara …"

"What?" she snapped.

"Okay," Nick said, holding out a placating hand. "Listen, darlin', you need to calm down. Okay? You're on the edge of insanity right now, and I don't want you falling off. Take a step back and come join me in the lab again, okay?"

"Nicky –"

"Uh-uh," Nick said, cutting her off. "You don't get to try to convince me that you're not upset. It's way too late for that. And, believe me, I more than understand. I've dealt with that crazy little girl before. I know how she can get under your skin and into your head. But, Sara, you can't let her. Okay? Don't let her live in your head for free."

A ghost of a smile flitted across Sara's face.

"That's better," Nick said. "So, are you ready to talk to me like the Sara I know and love?"

Sara nodded, wishing with all her heart she could be the Sara that Nick knew and loved – the Sara that _she_ knew and loved. She wanted so desperately to feel like that woman again.

"We don't have Marlon's DNA?" Nick asked.

Sara shook her head. "Not without a warrant. And, Brass wasn't at all optimistic about getting one. He said that because Marlon's parents were killed in a car accident last year, the judge could be more sympathetic toward him."

"Well, we wouldn't want to harass the little man, would we?" Nick asked. "We need to go back through all the other evidence, then, and see if anything else ties him to the murder. If not …"

Sara nodded, trying to keep her face from twisting. "We have to give him up as a suspect."

"Exactly."

"Okay," Sara said. "Bring on the evidence."

* * *

"Hey."

Sara looked up from the evidence spread across the layout room table as Grissom walked into the room. "Hi," she said.

"I just saw Catherine," Grissom said, sitting down on a stool next to her.

Sara nodded. "She was here a few minutes ago. Henry grabbed her and Nick to go over some results."

Grissom nodded. "Sara …"

Sara finally put down the photos she had been studying. "Yeah?"

"Catherine told me you went with Brass to interview Marlon West."

"I did," Sara agreed.

Grissom drew a slow, deep breath. "Why didn't Nick go?"

"He offered, but I wanted to do it."

"Are you sure that was a good idea?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Sara asked. "It's my case, too, Gil. I'm allowed to go on interrogations."

"Interrogations?"

"Interviews. Whatever."

"No, Sara, it's not _whatever_," Grissom said, concern slipping into his previously unaffected tone. "This case … nothing about it is _whatever_. Not for you, at least."

Sara stood abruptly. "Catherine's supervising this case, Gil, not you. You're supposed to be hands-off, remember?"

Grissom expression could not have been more stunned if she had slapped him. Sara _wanted_ to feel bad about what she had said, and how it had hurt him. She knew she _should_ feel bad. But … she just … didn't.

"I need to go talk to Greg and Archie to see if they found anything on Kira's Twitter page," she said. "I'll see you later."

Still stunned, Grissom watched her walk away. "Oh, God," he whispered. "This is worse than I thought."

* * *

"I think I've made a mistake."

Catherine looked up at Grissom in surprise. "Well, _that's_ not something I hear every day. What did you do?"

Grissom sat down across her desk from her. "I never should have let Sara take this case."

Catherine held up her hands. "Hey, I've been saying that from the beginning. What brought you around to my way of thinking?"

"I just saw her," Grissom said. "I asked her why she went to interview Marlon instead of Nick going. She got very defensive."

Catherine shrugged. "I'd expect nothing less."

"She referred to it as an interrogation."

"Well, it's an easy mistake –"

"No, Catherine," Grissom interrupted. "Not for Sara. She doesn't make mistakes like that. And, the way she dismissed it … Cath, her perspective isn't skewed, it's completely gone. I don't want her on this one anymore."

"Look, Gil, I'll support you on this either way," Catherine said. "You know better than me where she's concerned. Tell me what to do, and I'll do it."

Grissom sighed and looked away for a moment. He knew Sara needed to get as far away from this case – and from Hannah and Marlon – as possible. But, he also knew that if he took her off it, she'd never forgive him.

"I don't know," he said at last. "If this is something she has to do …"

Catherine nodded. "I understand that, and I think it's admirable that you're so willing to support her," she said softly. "But, at what cost to herself is she doing it?"

Grissom shook his head. "I'll talk to her again. Maybe … maybe I just caught her at a bad moment."

"Okay," Catherine said. "If you want her off the case, I'll make Nick the lead. Warrick just wrapped his last case; he can help Nick and Greg if they need it."

Grissom nodded. "Thanks, Cath. For that, and for listening."

She smiled. "Anytime."

* * *

"So, where are we?" Sara asked as she and Nick had lunch together in the break room.

"Kira had GHB in her system," Nick said. "For now, we're assuming that she was drugged. Greg and I sent samples of everything she could have consumed in her dorm room to Hodges. It all came back clean."

"And, the guy who was fighting Marlon for her left a message on her Twitter page," Sara said. "Brass is talking to him now."

"So," Nick said with a slight smile, "we're sort of nowhere."

"Ha, ha."

"Sara! Nick! I have news."

Sara and Nick glanced at each other, and abandoned their sandwiches to join Greg as he walked down the hall.

"Jordan Rockwell, the guy from Kira's Twitter page, is the one she had sex with right before she died," Greg informed them.

"Brass is back from the interview?" Nick asked.

"Yeah," Greg said. "Apparently, our boy had sex with her. Admitted it before he was even asked – proudly, Brass said."

Nick chuckled. "So, he drugged the girl, had sex with her, then admits it to the police?"

"Well, he was just in a car accident," Sara said. "Maybe his judgment is impaired."

"That's not all that's impaired," Greg said. "So, according to Brass, our guy slept with Kira, started to feel sick, tried to drive himself home, and wound up crashing his car."

"Could be true," Nick said, clearly unconvinced.

"Wait, I've got more," Greg said. "According to Brass, officers at the crash scene suspected that Jordan Rockwell was under the influence, so the hospital ran a tox panel." He handed the results to Sara.

"Positive for GHB," she read.

"Really?" Nick asked in surprise. "So, this guy ruffies himself along with Kira?"

"Did they share a drink?" Sara asked.

"Well, if they did, it wasn't in anything we tested," Greg said. "Hodges ran all the water bottles and soda cans we collected from the room. No GHB in anything."

"Hey, wait a minute," Nick said as they reached the evidence locker. "I think I know what they shared."

Sara and Greg followed him into the smaller room.

"Kira and Jordan had unprotected sex, right?" Nick asked.

"Yes," Sara affirmed.

Nick opened one of their boxes of evidence. "That means they both came in contact with this." He pulled an evidence bag holding a tube of sexual lubricant out of the box.

"Ah," Greg said. "Genius. Drugging the lube."

"No," Sara said, "_not_ genius. What guy does that to a girl?"

"The one who's not sleeping with the girl," Nick said.

Sara's eyes lit up. "We're back to Marlon."

"I don't know," Greg said cautiously. "Remember, up until about ten minutes before she died, he _was_ the one sleeping with the girl. Why would he put GHB in her lube, knowing he'd come into contact with it?"

Sara and Nick looked at each other.

"And," Nick said, "how will we be able to prove it?"

"His fingerprint -" Sara began.

"Means nothing," Nick said, cutting her off. "He admitted that they had a sexual relationship. Her blog, emails and texts all confirm it. We'd expect to find his prints on her lube."

"And, we're putting the cart ahead of the horse," Greg said. "We have to have Hodges test the lube before we get all excited about it being the source of the GHB."

"Even if it is, where does that leave us?" Sara asked a bit desperately. "I feel like we're just spinning our wheels here."

"Okay," Nick said. "Let's … take this to Hodges, then start looking at the evidence again. We must be missing something."

* * *

Hodges found Nick and Sara in the layout room. He brought the news that Kira's lube had, as Nick had guessed, been laced with GHB.

"It's not hard to do if you know a little chemistry," Hodges said.

"Marlon takes chemistry," Sara said, reading the results he had brought. "Hannah teaches it."

"We know Marlon's fingerprints were on the lube tube," Nick said. "We know he was jealous. Maybe the GHB in the lube was his way of getting back at her. You know, give a drug free girl a bad trip."

"Which became a _really_ bad trip," Hodges said.

"Yeah," Nick agreed. "But, still, that doesn't conclusively put anybody at the crime scene."

"There's one thing we have that does," Sara said. She had abandoned Hodges's results for the crime scene photos. She held up a detail shot of Kira's hand; a piece of tooth was imbedded in the skin between her knuckles. "We can get a warrant for this."

"_Perfect_," Nick said. "I'll call Brass."

* * *

Between Marlon's bruised lip and the defensive wounds on his ex-girlfriend's hand, the judge was very willing to issue a warrant, despite Brass's concerns that they would be accused of harassing the young man.

"Okay," Nick said as he ended his call with Brass. "Marlon is on his way in now." He gave Sara a teasing smile. "I'm guessing you don't want get take his dental impression."

Sara made a face. "I'll ride along to PD, but I'm not getting anywhere _near_ that kid's mouth."

Nick laughed. "Don't worry, darlin'. I'll protect you from all things saliva-related."

Sara shuddered. "Let's just go."


	12. Falling

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episode 807, "Goodbye and Good Luck."

* * *

_Falling_

"I'm telling you, I didn't kill Kira." Marlon's voice, slightly distorted, filtered to Sara as she watched his interaction with Nick from the observation room. "I've never lied to you," he continued. "Not once. You just never believe me. When I'm guilty, you want me to be innocent; and when I'm innocent, you want me to be guilty."

"Hey, you know what, Marlon?" Nick asked, pausing his mixing of the paste to take Marlon's bite impression. "You can save it. 'Cause, unlike most people, you're not going to get me to underestimate you. I already know you're every bit as smart as your sister – especially when it comes to creating confusion." He extended a paste-filled tray. "Open up."

Sara turned away before she had to watch Marlon bite down on the tray. She left the observation room, thinking she'd wait for Nick in the main lobby.

She made it as far as the waiting area when she found herself completely distracted by a lone figure sitting on a chair. Hannah was staring at the hands that were clasped in front of her. She looked up as Sara walked into the room.

"He didn't kill Kira," she said without preamble. "He cared about her."

"Hannah, what makes you think that I would believe anything that you tell me?" Sara asked.

Hannah gave her a half-smile. "I suppose I'm an optimist."

Sara studied her, thinking that, coming from anyone else, she would have found that comment funny.

"College has been a difficult adjustment for Marlon," Hannah said, "especially after we lost our parents."

"I'm sorry about that," Sara said.

"You're not, really, though," Hannah said.

Sara held her gaze, wondering what would prompt her to say such a thing. Offering sympathy in the face of loss was such a part of her job … Sara wondered if the phrases she so often used had somehow become so automatic that they sounded mechanical. Insincere. Although she didn't have any affection to spare for Hannah or Marlon, she wouldn't wish the loss of a parent on any child. She knew firsthand how much it hurt. Her sympathy in that respect was sincere.

"When will Marlon be able to leave?" Hannah asked.

"Well, we are going to keep him here as long as we possibly can," Sara said.

"Well, at least that's honest," Hannah said. "It also seems a little vindictive."

"Given your brother's history, I think it's pretty sensible."

Hannah studied her for a moment. "What's wrong, Sara? You're different than you used to be. You're angry … and a little sad, too. Why?"

"If you want to spend more time with your brother, I recommend you invest in a good lawyer, Hannah."

Sara turned and left the little girl alone. She didn't need this child to tell her what or how she felt.

In leaving her so quickly, she missed the chilling half-smile that crossed Hannah's face.

"Hey."

Sara looked around to see Nick on his way to the lobby. "Hey," she replied. "You got it?"

He nodded. "I thought you were watching."

"Yeah, up until the part where you had him biting on that thing."

Nick chuckled. "You really need to get past the saliva thing. Hey, don't you have a dog? Doesn't he drool?"

Sara smiled. "That's totally different. New topic, please."

Nick laughed. "Where did you go when you left the observation room?"

"I ran into Hannah," Sara said as they stepped out into the bright sunshine.

"Sara …"

"Nothing terrible, I promise. She told me how innocent Marlon is."

"Yeah, we've heard that from her before," Nick said. "You don't think these two are going to try that maneuver again, do you?"

Sara sighed. "I don't know what to think. All I know is, when they're involved, we should expect anything."

"Fair enough," Nick said, climbing into the SUV they had driven over. "Well, let's get back to the lab and see what this tooth can tell us."

* * *

The bite impression revealed that the tooth fragment Catherine and David had found in Kira's hand was, indeed, Marlon's.

"It puts him at the scene," Nick said.

Sara shook her head. "It's probably not enough to put him in jail."

They looked at each other, disappointment flooding between them. Sara felt the chance to right a past wrong slipping through their fingers.

"I think I might be able to help you out there," Greg said, appearing in the doorway.

"How?" Sara asked.

"I found a little something that shows what went on earlier in the day – shortly before Kira was killed."

"Okay," Nick said, shrugging out of his lab coat. "Let's see it."

Greg led them to the A/V lab. "You're going to love this."

"I hope so," Sara said. "So far, there hasn't been much about this case to love."

"What do you have for us, Greggo?" Nick asked.

"I found a Friend Agenda page for Kira and Marlon's band, The Death Crusade."

Greg scrolled through the pictures, letting them see the play-by-play account of the smack-down Marlon had received from Jordan. Sara's eyes widened as she saw the small person helping Marlon up after he had been knocked down.

"Hannah was there!"

"Yeah, Marlon must have been thrilled," Greg said.

"What guy would like having his little sister around to watch as he gets his ass kicked in front of his girlfriend?" Nick asked, thinking of his own little sister and how much of a challenge it had been to avoid her during his teenage years.

Looking at the images on the screen, a clearer picture of the night's events began to form in Nick's mind. Unfortunately, it was a picture that made no sense.

"So, this new guy pops Marlon in the mouth, chips his tooth. Marlon's humiliated, decides to take it out on Kira, kills her, then tries to make it look like a suicide. And, in the midst of their struggle, his tooth fragment winds up in her fist?"

Sara frowned. Although Nick's theory fit with everything they knew, it just didn't make _sense_. She began scrolling through the pictures on the webpage. If Jordan had knocked out Marlon's tooth, why had they found it in Kira's fist? It should have been lost on the pavement …

"What are you looking for now?" Nick asked.

"I'm not sure," Sara said, continuing to search through the pictures. _Something to tell me why Marlon's tooth was in Kira's hand, not at the scene of the fight where it belonged …_

She came to a picture of Hannah kneeling down, picking something up from the pavement. She stopped, her breath catching.

"What?" Nick asked.

"Look – look right there. Look at what she's doing."

Nick and Greg both looked at the picture, their eyes widening.

"No," Greg said. "She wouldn't …"

"Oh, yes, she would," Nick said. "The question is, how far did she go with it?"

"I think she drugged Kira," Sara said. "We all know she's smart enough. Even Hodges said you just need to know a little chemistry, and, considering she's a TA, she knows a _lot_ of chemistry. So, Hannah drugged Kira and then beat up her hand enough to imbed the tooth in it, which would throw all suspicion on Marlon. Then, she shoved her out the window – a perfect way to kill her and made it look like a suicide."

Nick looked at Sara. "Okay. For now, it's a workable theory. How are we going to prove it?"

"I need to look at the bite impressions and the tooth fragment again," Sara said. "And, we're going to have to interview Hannah."

"Right," Nick agreed. "You tell me where you get with the bite impressions, and I'll have Brass bring Hannah in."

"Wait, Nick, no. _I_ want to interview her."

"Sara, I've got this one."

"Nick, _please_. _Please_, let me do this. I need it."

Nick looked into her eyes and sighed. He didn't have the heart to deny her – not yet. "Start with the bite impressions," he said. "We'll decide where to go after that."

Sara nodded. It wasn't the guarantee she wanted, but she also knew that it wasn't logical to call Hannah in before they were sure – not matter how much she wanted to.

* * *

Sara sat in the layout room alone. Photos were spread out all over the table in front of her. She held Marlon's bite impression and his tooth fragment in her left hand, experimentally punching at it with her right fist. She connected with the tooth, knocking it down. Her eyes fell on the pictures again.

_No. There's no way …_

"What are you doing?" Grissom interrupted her thoughts.

"I'm just taking a closer look at Marlon's chipped tooth," Sara said. She passed her magnifying glass to Grissom. "Look at the orientation of the tooth in the mouth."

Grissom obliging studied it.

"And now look at the way the tooth ended up in Kira's right fist," she continued, sliding a photo closer to him.

Grissom leaned over it. "It looks like it's backwards," he said.

"I don't think Kira punched Marlon," Sara said. "I think Hannah picked up the tooth from a fight that Marlon had earlier in the evening, and I think she planted it on Kira." Looking at Grissom, telling him the same theory that Nick and Greg had agreed to be plausible only an hour before … Sara felt like the newbie CSI who was desperate to prove spontaneous human combustion all over again. It sounded ridiculous, even to her. She looked away from him and shook her head. "That's crazy."

"It's possible," Grissom said fairly.

"This kid is spinning me in circles _again_," Sara said.

"You know, Sara," Grissom said, putting down the magnifying glass, "some cases, some suspects, can get under your skin – like this tooth. But, you can't let them make you feel bad." He paused, studying her. "If you want, we can put Nick on this."

"No, no," Sara said empathetically, shaking her head. "I, um … I need to finish this case. I'll be okay." She tried so hard to force a smile for him, but she couldn't.

"Okay," Grissom agreed quietly, clearly against his better judgment. "Sara, if you need anything …"

"I'm fine," she said.

_Are you, really?_ The question screamed its way through his head, but he couldn't make himself ask it of her. Grissom reached out and touched her cheek. Sara leaned in to his touch, putting her hand over his to hold it there.

"I love you," he whispered.

She nodded. "I know. I love you, too."

He held her eyes for a moment, then reluctantly released her. "Stick with Nick on this one, Sara, okay? Don't try to go it alone."

"I won't."

He nodded and left her alone.

Sara released a long breath. "Almost there," she whispered. "As soon as we can nail this little girl, it'll all be over. I can get back to normal, and Gil and I can plan our wedding." She sighed and pushed her hair back behind her ears. "Almost there."

* * *

"Well?" Nick asked as Sara walked into the break room. "Where are we? Did Hannah plant Marlon's tooth on Kira?"

"It's a strong possibility."

Nick's eyes widened. "Okay, I'm not saying I doubted you, but, _wow_. That's a whole new level of creepy, even for those two."

Sara sat down with him. "The tooth was backwards in Kira's hand. If she had actually hit Marlon hard enough to imbed it under her skin, it wouldn't have ended up the way it did."

"Okay," Nick said. "In that case, there is definitely a strong possibility it was planted. And, given that we know that Hannah was picking something up exactly where it would have fallen …"

"I need to interview her, Nick."

"Whoa," he said, holding up his hand. "Look, Sara, I know what you're doing with this case, believe me, but I'm just not sure it's a good idea for you to interview Hannah."

"Nicky, come on. One interview. One interview, and it'll be over."

He smiled slightly. "You sound like you expect her to confess."

Sara sighed. "If only my life could be that easy."

"All right," Nick said. "I'll come with you."

"No," Sara said. "No, I need to do this without you." She smiled slightly. "I don't need my big brother protecting me this time."

Nick looked into her eyes, and realized the demons she was fighting down with this interview. He sighed.

"Okay."

Sara smiled and jumped up from her seat. "I'm going to go call Brass."

Sara hurried out of the room. Nick watched her go, then followed at a slower pace. He turned the opposite way, toward Grissom's office.

"I won't go with you, Sara, but I'm not letting you do this alone."

Taking a deep breath, he knocked on his boss's door.

"Come in."

Nick entered the office. Grissom was sitting at his desk, working through a mountain of paperwork. He looked pleased to have a distraction.

"Hey, Nick. What can I do for you?"

"Griss, we have a problem," Nick said, sitting down across from him. "Catherine said you wanted me to keep an eye on Sara in this case."

Grissom nodded, taking his glasses off and putting them on his desk.

"Well … Griss, I'm doing the best I can, but it's not easy."

"No, I didn't think it would be. Not with Sara dealing with these kids again."

"Right," Nick said. "Listen, here's the situation. We've found evidence to suggest that Hannah framed Marlon for Kira Dellinger's murder."

Grissom nodded. "Sara told me that."

"Okay. Well, right now, she's on her way to PD to interrogate Hannah."

Grissom jumped up from his seat. "She's what?"

"I tried to stop her, but she insisted. She wouldn't even let me ride along. I just … I want to respect her wishes, but I really don't think this is something she should do alone."

"No," Grissom agreed. "No. I'll go."

Nick nodded and stood to leave the office.

"Nick?"

Nick paused in the doorway and turned to face his boss. "Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Nick smiled slightly and nodded. "She's like a sister to me."

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. "She's lucky to have you."

"I'm lucky to have her, too."

* * *

"Hello, Sara," Hannah said as Sara walked into the interrogation room.

Sara sat down across from her and put a blown up picture on the table between them. She slid it across to her. "What is that in your hand?"

Hannah looked at the picture for a moment. "I think it was a gum wrapper. It's wrong to litter."

"It's a piece of a tooth," Sara said as though Hannah had never spoken. "The one that Kira Dellinger's new boy toy knocked out of Marlon's head. You picked it up after their fight. You had already spiked Kira's lube with GHB. All you had to do was wait. Once the drug had taken effect, she was completely powerless to resist. A piece of his tooth in her fist, a little bit of leverage, and your brother is a killer again."

Hannah sat back in her chair. "That's a _highly_ unlikely series of events. You don't expect me to confess to something I didn't do."

"I'm just putting you on notice," Sara said. "You are _not_ fooling me anymore."

Hannah looked at her for a minute, frowning as though deep in concentration. "I think I know why you're so angry, Sara. I did some research. I read about what the serial killer did to you … out in the desert … under that car …"

Flashes of memory raced through her mind. No one – _no one_ – had even hinted at her abduction in so long … just hearing it mentioned made her skin crawl. "We're talking about you, Hannah."

"It must have been so terrible, being trapped like that, all alone. Did your life flash in front of your eyes?"

Sara struggled to stay focused as images of the desert and pounding rain filled her head. "That is none of your business."

"It must have been so _sad_ knowing that you were going to lose everyone that mattered to you –"

_No … they were what kept me going …_ "Stop, Hannah!"

"Look, I know how it feels!" Hannah said almost desperately. "One moment, my parents were alive, and the next they were gone!"

_And now she wants us to relate? Like we're _friends_?_ "Answer the question!"

"My life changed in that moment," Hannah continued. "All that I have left is Marlon. Why would I do _anything_ to hurt him?"

_So _that's_ where she was going with this. The little _bitch_._ Sara jumped out of her seat, slamming her hands down on the table. "Stop playing games with me," she hissed. She stalked out of the room.

"You're the one who's playing games," Hannah muttered with every ounce of fourteen-year-old attitude she could muster.

Sara had barely made it into the hallway when she heard Grissom's voice greeting her. She turned to him, knowing that of everyone she could have seen in that moment, seeing him was the hardest.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I was going to ask you the same question," he replied. She began walking backwards down the hall as if to get away from him; he followed closely. "Listen, I'm worried about you –"

"That just makes this worse," Sara interrupted. "I – I can't talk about this right now. I can't." She threw her hands up in surrender and turned away from him.

Grissom stopped following her and stood stunned in the middle of the hall. Listening to Hannah, to what she had done to Sara …

"She gets her," he muttered.

Hannah understood Sara far better than he could have imagined. She knew how to drive her to the breaking point, and how to use it to her advantage. But, to do what she had done … to bring up such horrible, awful moments in her life …

Grissom shook his head. He felt somehow responsible. He had spent so much time being grateful that Sara had _survived_, he had forgotten to worry about whether or not she had _lived_. And, now, she wasn't even willing to talk to him.

"Please, Sara," he whispered, "please don't let it be too late."


	13. Rock Bottom

A/N: Fair warning: I actually cried while writing this. That does not happen often.

I hope I've done Sara justice.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episode 807, "Goodbye and Good Luck."

* * *

_Rock Bottom_

"She won't do it!" Sara grabbed her hair, clutching it back from her face. "She won't even consider acting like she might have done this! She's playing mind games with me again, and she's –"

"Okay," Nick said, holding out a placating hand. "I get it. Hannah's doing her best to undermine us – again. But, Sara, we've got to find a way to punish her this time. We can't let her get away with murder again." He smiled slightly. "Well, for the first time, I guess. It wasn't really her last time."

"And, that, Nicky, is part of why I hate her. She's so ridiculously good at confusing us."

"Well, we need to confuse her," Nick said. "We need to throw her a curveball that will shake her up – get a confession out of her."

"How can we do that?"

"We can use Marlon."

Sara's mouth dropped open. "What?"

"She claims to love him so much," Nick said. "Let's see if she loves him enough to set him free."

"What are you saying?" Sara asked slowly.

"Let's talk to Marlon. We'll explain everything to him. Tell him what we believe Hannah did. Then, once we have him good and horrified, we'll ask him to talk to her while wearing a wire. If he can get a confession out of her, we'll have it. And, if she's going to tell anyone the truth, it's the brother she claims to love so much."

"Do you think it'll work?"

Nick shrugged. "Who knows? But, we've got to do something, and this is definitely _something_."

"All right," Sara agreed. "Let's go talk to Brass. We're going to need him on board if we're going to do this."

* * *

"I don't know," Brass said slowly after Nick and Sara explained their plan. "Do you think it'll work?"

"We've got to try," Nick said. "She won't give us anything. We thought that she might be more inclined to talk to her brother."

"She might," Brass agreed. He shrugged. "Why not? If it works, we're in business. If not, at least we can say we tried, right?"

"I want to talk to Marlon," Sara said.

"I don't know –" Nick began.

"I feel responsible for the fact that he's in jail right now," Sara said, cutting him off. "I'm the one who pushed to find something to link him to the case. I'm the one who thought he was guilty from the beginning. I want to be the one to set him free."

"Okay," Nick conceded. At least she had a rational argument.

"I'll set up the interview," Brass said.

* * *

When Sara arrived in the interrogation room, Marlon was waiting for her. He gave her a slightly hopeful look.

"Well? Did my teeth prove anything?"

"Quite a bit, actually," Sara said, sitting down across from him. "You told Nick that you've never lied to us. I believe you."

"Well, at least someone does. Does that mean I can leave?"

"Not yet," Sara said. "Unfortunately, there's an awful lot of evidence against you. Your bite impression matches the tooth fragment we found in Kira's hand. That places you at her murder."

"No!" Marlon balled his hands into fists. "You must have made a mistake! I wasn't there! I lost that part of my tooth when that guy she was with hit me! There's no way it should have been in her hand – no way!"

"Okay," Sara said. "Marlon, calm down. I already told you that I believe you."

"But, you also said …"

"I know," Sara said. "I just want you to understand why we can't release you right now. I also think I know how your tooth wound up in Kira's hand." She spread the pictures of Hannah picking up his tooth on the table.

"What's this?" he asked.

"These are pictures we found on your band's Friend Agenda page," Sara said.

"That's Hannah," Marlon said. "What's she doing?"

"She's picking up your tooth off the ground."

He looked at her in complete confusion. "Why would she …?" His voice trailed off as the reality of the situation hit him. "Why would Hannah want to frame me?"

"I don't know, Marlon," Sara said. "She's your sister."

Marlon thought for a moment. "Hannah's always been kinda weird, but, since the trial, and after our parents died, she started getting _really_ weird."

"Like, how?" Sara asked.

Marlon shrugged. "Really clingy, I guess … always wanting to hang around with me."

"And, that changed when you met Kira," Sara prompted.

"Yeah," Marlon agreed. "But, not for Hannah." He looked away from Sara. "She walked in on us one time – me and Kira. We were …"

Sara nodded. She had a very good idea of what they had been doing.

"Kira ran out," he said. "She was pissed. Maybe I should have kicked Hannah out. I don't know. I mean, she's my little sister, you know?" He sighed. "After that, Kira said she was done with me."

"How did Hannah take that?" Sara asked.

"She … tried to cheer me up, I guess. Told me that Kira didn't deserve me." A ghost of a smile flitted across his face. "That's what you're supposed to say, right?"

"So they say."

He shook his head. "I was mad. I thought Kira should have been more understanding. I wanted … I wanted to teach her a lesson." He drew a deep breath. "I asked Hannah to teach me how to make GHB, and how to get it into Kira." He shook his head again. "I just wanted to mess her up a bit. I snuck it into Kira's room a few days ago. I still had a key. Hannah must have made a copy."

He looked so miserable that Sara actually started to feel sorry for him. However, this was not the time for pity. "I believe you, Marlon. I really do. But, the only thing a jury's going to see is your prints on the lube, your prints on the windowsill and another dead girl."

"Why is Hannah doing this to me?" Marlon asked.

"I don't know. All I know is, you don't deserve to take the fall for this. And, the question is: Are you going to let your sister get away with this, and spend the rest of your life in jail?"

"If Hannah wants me in jail, that's where I'm going to be." He shook his head, his face twisting in horror. "There's nothing I can do about it."

"There is one thing," Sara said.

"What?" Marlon asked, lifting his head slightly.

"We'd like you to have a conversation with Hannah while wearing a wire. If you can get her to confess what she did – or even why she did it – we can use that to free you and put her in jail."

He frowned. "Why don't you just ask her yourself?"

"She doesn't trust me," Sara said. "She won't tell me anything. But, you, Marlon … she trusts you."

"She did, once," Marlon said. "But, after this … I'm not so sure."

"Marlon," Sara said, leaning closer to him across the table, "I need you to try. This is the best option we can think of to keep you out of jail."

Marlon took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. What do I need to do?"

* * *

Sara sat with Brass to listen as a wired Marlon began his conversation with Hannah, who had been taken to the jail to visit him at his cell.

"Do you think he can do this?" Brass asked.

"I think he doesn't have a choice," Sara said. "It's either this or a lifetime in prison. He knows that."

"I just hope he can pull it off."

They both fell silent as Marlon asked Hannah what he had done to deserve "this."

"You killed Kira," Hannah said.

"We both know I didn't do that," Marlon replied.

Hannah was silent for a long moment. Sara and Brass looked at each other, wondering if it could possibly be that easy.

"You look a little flushed, Marlon," she said, breaking her silence. "Are you feeling all right?"

"No," Marlon replied. "I'm not feeling all right."

"Kira always brought out the worst in you," Hannah said.

"Hannah, they're going to put me away for the rest of my _life_," Marlon said.

"The evidence is against you," Hannah said. "Particularly given your history of violence."

"Please," Marlon said. "After everything I've done for you … after everything we've done for each other … at least … tell me _why_."

"Because … I love you," Hannah said.

Sara and Brass looked at each other.

"We need more," Brass muttered. "Come on, Marlon … get us more."

"And, I love you, too," Marlon said.

"No," Hannah said. "You don't. But, you will. I promise I'll visit you every week."

Sara took in a sharp breath and looked at Brass. "She's sick. Sicker than I thought."

"We're done." Hannah was obviously speaking to a guard. She was ending the interview.

Brass exhaled. "Well, he gave it a shot, but she is _way_ out of his league."

"She's out of mine, too," Sara said, finally admitting the truth that she had denied since meeting Hannah two years before.

Brass shook his head. "We're going to have to give everything over to the DA," he said. "He can decide if he wants to take him to trial."

"He will," Sara said. "Just like I wanted to find all the evidence against him. It's hard to let a murderer get away."

"Yeah," Brass agreed.

Sara sighed. "I've got to get back to the lab."

Brass nodded. "I'll see you, kiddo."

She smiled. "Bye, Jim. Thanks for this."

"You're welcome."

* * *

Walking into the lab, Sara's first thought was that she needed to find Nick. She wanted to tell him what had happened.

She had only taken a few steps when she realized how awful she felt. She felt … sticky. Clammy. Dirty.

She changed the direction of her steps. As much as she wanted to talk to Nick, she needed a shower more.

* * *

After her shower, Sara felt better. True, they had failed in their attempt to get a confession from Hannah. But, they just needed a little more time. She'd find Nick and Greg, and they'd brainstorm another way to prove Hannah's guilt. Maybe they should talk to Catherine. She tended to have good ideas.

Feeling lighter than she had only an hour before, Sara walked to Grissom's office. He was, as usual, at his desk, doing paperwork. She smiled. He loved her, and she had been so awful to him. It was time to fix that.

"Hi," she said, walking into his office.

"Hey," he said, taking off his glasses.

Sara stopped in front of his desk, leaning on it. She looked at him in silence.

"Okay," Grissom said. "What's up?"

"I'm sorry," Sara said with a slight smile.

Grissom looked at her, obviously waiting for more.

"I've been, uh –"

Sara's phone rang, cutting her off. She sighed, already irritated with whoever would interrupt her conversation with her fiancé. Resigned to the fact that that was just the way her life worked, she pulled her phone from her pocket.

"This is Sara."

"Sara, it's Brass," he said. "Listen, we've got a problem. I'm in the jail right now, outside Marlon West's cell. Sara … he hanged himself."

Horror filled Sara. _No. No! No, we're supposed to have more time. We just need a little more time …_

"Sara? Can you hear me?"

"I'll be right there," she said in a little voice.

She closed her phone and looked at Grissom. He met her eyes, stunned by the raw pain that replaced the loving smile that had been there only moments before.

She left without another word.

Grissom watched her go, wishing she had at least told him where she was going. He wanted so desperately to support her, but she kept pulling away.

* * *

Sara walked the familiar path to Marlon's cell. Brass was standing outside it with an officer Sara had never met.

"Guard found him about an hour ago," Brass said.

He kept talking, but Sara didn't hear him. She walked right past him to look into the cell. Marlon was hanging from his window bars, a piece of his bed sheet tied around his neck.

"No," she whispered. "No."

"Sara … I called Catherine to process," Brass said. "I just … I thought you'd want to know."

Sara looked at him, her eyes over-bright. "She did this to him," she said, her voice catching. "She had her insane scheme to make him love her by being the only person in his life, and look where it got them. He didn't kill himself, Jim – _she_ killed him."

"She's his next of kin," Brass said quietly. "I need to notify –"

"No," Sara interrupted. "I want to do it. Let me, Jim, please."

"Sara …"

"Jim. Please."

"I want this to be it, Sara," Brass said. "I mean it. After this, you are done with this girl. Okay?"

Sara nodded and took a crime scene photo of Marlon's body from his hands. "In case she doesn't believe me."

"Sara …"

"I know what I'm doing, Jim."

He sighed as she walked past him. "I really hope you do."

* * *

Sara went straight to the UNLV campus. She found a spot outside the sciences building, and stood against a tree, waiting for Hannah to emerge. Hannah spotted her almost immediately and crossed to her.

"You needed to talk to me again?" she asked.

"I do," Sara affirmed. "I know that you killed Kira Dellinger. I just can't prove it."

"That must be frustrating for you."

"Hannah … Marlon's dead."

Hannah held her gaze for a long moment. "Wow. That's a really sad and desperate ploy, Sara. It's beneath you."

Sara gave her the photo of Marlon's body she had brought with her. Hannah took it and stared at it.

"He was doing well here, wasn't he?" Sara asked. "Making friends, joining a band, falling in love …"

Hannah looked up at her, shaking her head as though she could make it all stop.

"But, you're still a _freak_, just like high school."

"You're lying," Hannah said, her voice choked with tears. "No. This is a lie!"

"His world got bigger, and yours stayed the same, and you killed Kira so you could keep him all to yourself, didn't you?"

"It's a lie!" Hannah shrieked, shaking all over. "No, no! It's a lie!" She threw her backpack off her shoulders. "This is a lie!"

She grabbed Sara's wrist, pulling her down. Sara grabbed Hannah's shoulder in an attempt to stay on her feet. They both sank to their knees as Hannah began sobbing.

"Stop it!" she sobbed. "Marlon! You – you – you can't leave me all alone!"

Suddenly, the reality of the entire situation smacked Sara. She had gone to this school to find this girl – this _child_ – to tell her that her brother had died. She had been cruel and heartless as she told her that the only family she had left had killed himself.

Sara felt sick. She had never done anything so horrible in her life. She pulled Hannah to her, hoping to make some small amends for what she had done.

Hannah clung to her, sobbing against her shoulder. "What am I going to do now?" she sobbed. "What am I going to do now?"

Sara merely held her. She wanted to offer words of comfort, but knew she had none. How could she, after what she had done?

* * *

When she got back to the lab, Sara went straight to the ladies' room. She went to the sink and turned it on, staring at her reflection in the mirror above it.

"Who are you? What kind of a monster have you become?" she whispered.

Hannah's gasping sobs filled her ears again, and bile rose up in her throat. Gagging, she turned away from the sink and just made it into a stall before she was sick.

Shaking, Sara sank back onto the floor. She leaned against the stall wall, and began to cry.

"I can't do this," she whispered. "I can't do this anymore. I need … I need to get out."

Finally managing to pull herself to her feet, she washed her hands and face and left the restroom. She went to her locker and grabbed a bag. Returning to the restroom, she slowly brushed her teeth. Then, she locked herself in a stall and, taking out the notebook that had been in her bag, began to write.

_Gil … _

She finished her letter and sealed it in an envelope. She felt like a coward. She knew that she should talk to him, sit down with him and explain what she was doing and why.

But, she knew she couldn't. She knew that if she did sit down with him, she'd wind up crying in his arms, begging him to make it better. He'd hold her and tell her loved her and convince her to stay. And, that was something she couldn't do.

She needed to fix this on her own. She needed to heal herself. She needed to spare him the pain of watching her fall apart.

She needed to leave Las Vegas.

She left the restroom again, and went to the front desk. Judy gave her a cheerful smile.

"Hi, Sara."

"Judy," she said, "I need to leave in a few minutes, but could you please give this to Grissom for me?"

"Of course," Judy said as she took the letter.

"Thanks."

Sara knew that Judy would make sure that Grissom would be the only one to see the letter. She was the soul of discretion, and she had far too much respect for Grissom to ever spread any gossip about him.

Content that he would read her letter and understand why she had to leave, Sara began her journey back to the locker room. She stopped as she head Hodges's voice. She recognized that tone – he used it when he wanted to impress Grissom.

As much as she didn't want to tell him goodbye, she knew she couldn't leave without seeing him again. Pulled by an invisible force, Sara walked to him as if in a trance.

Mindless of the fact that Hodges was there, completely ignoring his greeting, Sara put her arms around Grissom's neck and pulled him into a kiss. Stunned, it was a moment before he responded and kissed her back. His hands had barely landed on her hips before she pulled away. She looked deeply into his eyes, trying one last time to memorize exactly how blue they were, and then walked away.

She went to the locker room, to her locker, and pulled out her CSI vest. She looked at her name stitched onto it and felt another rush of nausea.

_This isn't who I am anymore. This isn't who I want to be. _

She sat down on the bench and pulled out her pocket knife. It was only a matter of moments before she had ripped through the stitches that held her name in place. She peeled the SIDLE off the vest, and put a piece of masking tape in its place. She wrote a bold GOOD LUCK across it, and put it in Ronnie's locker.

_Don't be like me, Ronnie_, she silently pleaded. _Don't ever be like me._

She replaced the tape in her own open locker. She studied it one last time, looking at the pictures hanging on the door. Her eyes fell on a picture of her and Grissom. Neither of them had realized the picture was being taken; Grissom was talking, explaining something, if his hand position was any indication, while she watched.

_That's us, _she thought_. God, he's taught me so much … about science … about life … about love … _

She slammed her locker closed before she could begin to cry.

_Stay strong. You have to do this. It's as much for his own good as yours. You have to leave. You can't let him see you like this._

Swallowing her tears, she picked up her nametag. She looked at it for a long moment before letting it fall into the trash.

Sara Sidle, CSI, was gone.

* * *

Sara could barely think as she drove herself home. Her only truly coherent thought was of how glad she was that Hank was at the sitter. As impossible as it was to leave Grissom, at least she knew he'd understand. She had left him a letter explaining everything. But, Hank … how could she possibly make her dog understand that she still loved him, but she had to leave?

Choking on a sob, she parked her car in its usual space.

"I've got to get out," she whispered. "I've got to leave this place."

Tears threatened as she walked up to their front door. She let herself into the house and looked around with wild eyes. Everything, everywhere spoke of her life with Gil – the life they had built together. The idea of leaving it all behind was unthinkable.

And, yet …

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and shuddered. She looked exactly like she felt – like she had already fallen apart. He couldn't see her like that. She couldn't bear it.

She haphazardly threw some clothes and toiletries into a bag, and called a cab. The few minutes she had to wait gave her time to find a few more essentials that she would have wanted and needed.

A horn honking outside told her that her cab was waiting. She grabbed her bag and opened the door. One last backward glance before she left – one last moment to be grateful that the dog was with the sitter – and she walked out of the house and away from the horrible person she was becoming.

"Don't look back," she whispered to herself as she locked the door. "Never look back."

Nothing had ever hurt her more.


	14. Unanswered Whys

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episodes 510, "No Humans Involved" and 807, "Goodbye and Good Luck." Additional inspiration, but no dialogue, comes from episode 808, "You Kill Me." I also claim no ownership of United Airlines.

* * *

_Unanswered Whys_

To his credit, Hodges stopped explaining his results to Grissom as soon as Sara stepped away. The two men watched her walk down the hall, both stunned. After a moment, Hodges cleared his throat, and disappeared back into the trace lab. Barely noticing that he was alone, Grissom walked to his office as if in a trance.

His phone began ringing almost as soon as he entered his office. He picked it up automatically.

"Grissom."

"Gil, it's Jim. Listen, have you seen Sara?"

"Yes," Grissom replied, her kiss still warm on his lips. "Why? Do you need her?"

"No, I just wanted to make sure that she's all right."

"All right?"

"Yeah." Brass paused. "When I asked if you had seen her, I actually meant 'talked to her.'"

"Not exactly …"

Brass sighed. "Gil, Marlon West hanged himself in his cell."

"What?" Grissom juggled with the phone briefly as it slipped in his grip. "Does Sara know?"

"Yeah. She came down to the jail to see the body. Catherine's processing, but … Gil, Sara took the news to Hannah."

"Why would you let her do that? You know how she is with those two!"

"I know," Brass said heavily. "I know it was a terrible idea. It was just … if you could have seen her …"

Grissom sighed. How could he fault Brass for giving in to Sara when he had been doing the same thing from the moment the prints from the windowsill came back to Marlon? "It's okay, Jim. I know exactly what you mean."

"I just wanted to make sure that she's okay," Brass said again. "I tried calling her, but I guess her phone is off. I keep getting her voicemail."

A thrill of fear raced up Grissom's spine. "Her voicemail?"

"Yeah. Listen, if you talk to her, tell her to call me."

"I'll do that," Grissom promised. "I'm going to go look for her now."

"Great. Thanks, Gil."

"You, too."

Grissom ended the call and left his office. He did a complete circuit of the lab without running into Sara. He knew that it would be silly to panic. Sara was likely in the ladies' room, or had gone to a scene, or even gone home for the day. Calling her would make sense, but Jim had said her phone was off …

"Her battery could have died," he muttered to himself as he approached the front desk. "Judy, have you seen Sara?" he asked.

"She left a few minutes ago, sir, but she did leave something for you," Judy said, handing him a sealed envelope.

"Thank you," he said, taking the envelope that bore his name with one hand and putting on his glasses with the other.

He walked back to his office before opening the envelope. He pulled out a single sheet of paper covered with Sara's handwriting. As he read it, his heart began to pound.

_Gil,_

_You know I love you. I feel I've loved you forever._

_Lately, I haven't been feeling very well. Truth be told, I'm tired. _

_Out in the desert, under that car that night, I realized something, and I haven't been able to shake it. Since my father died, I've spent almost my entire life with ghosts. We've been like close friends, and, out there in the desert, it occurred to me that it was time for me to bury them. I can't do that here. I'm so sorry._

_No matter how hard I try to fight it off, I'm left with the feeling that I have to go. I have no idea where I'm going, but I know I have to do this. If I don't, I'm afraid I'll self-destruct, and, worse, you'll be there to see it happen._

_Be safe. Know that I tried very hard to stay. Know that you are my one and only. I will miss you with every beat of my heart. Our life together was the only home I've ever really had, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. _

_I love you. I always will._

_Goodbye. _

_Sara_

Grissom's head snapped up. He tore his glasses off his face.

"No," he whispered. "No, no, it can't be …"

He letter fell to his desk as he fumbled for his phone. He pressed the speed dial for Sara. After a moment of silence, he heard her cheerful voicemail greeting.

"No …"

"Hey, Grissom, have you talked to Brass? I just …" Catherine's voice died at the look on Grissom's face. She walked fully into the office. "Whoa. Okay, what happened? What's wrong?"

"Sara …" Grissom's voice died. He swallowed. "She's gone."

"What do you mean, _she's gone_?" Catherine asked, stepping closer to him.

"She's gone," Grissom repeated.

"Gone, as in, gone for the day?" The look on Grissom's face was enough to tell Catherine that there was no chance that was the case, but she couldn't stop the question. She needed to hold on to some hope.

Grissom shook his head. "No, Catherine, she's _gone_. She's leaving Las Vegas."

"When?"

"I don't know. Now? In a few hours? Soon. She may already be gone."

"And, you didn't know she was planning to leave?"

He shook his head.

"When's she coming back?"

"I don't know if she'll ever be back."

"Wait," Catherine said, shaking her head slightly. "That doesn't make any sense. This is her home. Why would she leave it? Did you have a fight? Are you …?"

"No! I don't know what happened," Grissom said. His fingers trembled slightly as he picked up her letter. "She left me a letter …" He shook his head. "It doesn't say much."

"Call her," Catherine said at once.

"I tried. Her phone is off."

Catherine stared at him. Never, in all the years since she had met Sara, had she known her to turn off her phone. "Go home."

"What?"

"Go home. Stop her before she can leave."

A jolt of energy shot through Grissom. "Take care of things until I get back."

He nearly ran out of his office.

* * *

Tears raced down Sara's cheeks in hot streams as the cab drove her off the Strip. As they turned into the airport entrance, Sara swallowed, trying to get herself under control. She wiped at her cheeks in an effort to make herself at least somewhat presentable.

"What airline, ma'am?" the cabbie asked.

Sara shook her head slightly. "United," she said, throwing out the first airline that came to mind.

The man nodded and parked at the appropriate entrance. After he helped her with her bag, she paid him and walked into the airport.

Sara stared at the screen of outgoing flights. Each location seemed like a perfect escape. She could go to Barbados, and lose herself in the tropical landscape. Or to Montana, for an isolated retreat. She could go to Colorado, and take up skiing.

She shook her head. None of that made sense. She wasn't leaving Vegas for a vacation. She was leaving to fix herself – to reclaim the woman she knew she was. She didn't need to soak up the sun to do that. She needed to confront her past. Somehow, she knew that dealing with what she had been through years before would make her everything she had been through in the past few months something she could handle, instead of an insurmountable challenge.

Her eyes were drawn to two cities on the board: San Francisco and San Diego. One held the key to her past, and one held the comfort, and, potentially, the answers that she sought. San Francisco was where she had grown up. It was where her father had died. Where she had been taken from her mother. Where she had started her career as a CSI. Where she had met Grissom. San Diego was her mother's new home, the place she had escaped to after Sara's high school graduation.

As she stared at the monitors, a moment from her more recent past floated through her mind. She remembered her long-ago words to Brass when he had faced a heart-wrenching decision … _Go with the living. The dead can wait._

Her decision was made. She would go to San Diego. She would visit her mother.

* * *

Grissom barely managed to stop himself from turning on his SUV's lights and sirens as he drove home. After the quickest time he had ever managed driving from the lab to their house, he pulled in with a sigh of relief.

"Her car is here," he said, parking next to it. He laughed shakily. "She's inside."

He got out of the car and hurried into the house.

"Sara?" he called as soon as the door was open. "Sara, where are you? Sara?"

The silence of the house pressed in around him. His breath caught.

"No," he whispered. "Sara! Where are you? _Sara_!"

He charged through the house, almost afraid he'd find her broken, unconscious body hidden away in one of the rooms. After a matter of moments, he acknowledged the truth: he was alone in the house. He was too late. She was already gone.

He sank down onto their bed and dropped his head into his hands. Why hadn't he seen the signs? They had been there, creating a chain of evidence for him to follow. And, now, now that she was gone, it was all too obvious. The forced smiles, the pained look in her eyes, the nightmares, the clinginess followed by the emotional distance, the irritableness, the quick temper … He had been losing her for months, but had refused to see it. Ever since her abduction, she had been different. He had ignored the signs, and lived in a fool's paradise. He had been so happy that she had _survived_ her abduction that he had forgotten to make sure that she had _lived _through it.

"Oh, God, Sara, I'm sorry," he moaned. "I'm so, so sorry."

He picked up his phone and redialed her number. The silence followed by her voicemail greeting had become familiar at this point. He was nearly numb to it.

"Where are you?" he whispered. "I need to know you're safe."

He let the phone fall onto the bed beside him and buried his face in his hands again.

"I love you, too," he whispered.

* * *

Months later, Sara would be horrified at how much she paid for her flight to San Diego. As her plane touched down, however, the price was the last thing on her mind. All she could think of was seeing her mother.

She followed the other passengers off the plane as though in a trance. After claiming her bag, she followed the signs directing her to the taxi pick up area. She joined the line of people awaiting cabs, and patiently waited for her turn to board one.

After a wait that could have been either ten minutes or three hours for as observant as Sara was, cab pulled up in front of her. The cabbie stepped out to help her with her bag.

"Where are you headed, sweetie?" the older man asked.

Sara rattled off her mother's address. "Do you know it?" she asked.

He nodded. "It'll be about a thirty minute ride," he cautioned.

"That's fine," Sara said. Maybe the ride would give her time to organize her thoughts, and to reclaim some of her sanity – at least enough that she wouldn't terrify her mother upon her arrival.

"Okay, then," the cabbie said as they climbed into the car. "Let's go."

* * *

Grissom walked back into the lab without noticing a thing around him. He didn't even realize that Catherine was sitting in his office until she spoke.

"Gil?" she said softly.

He turned to look at her with deadened eyes. "She's gone," he said, the weight of the world crashing down with his words.

"You couldn't convince her to stay?" Catherine asked, still in her soft voice. She closed the door and sat down with Grissom on his couch.

He shook his head. "She was gone before I got home."

"Oh, Gil. I'm so sorry."

He shook his head again. "I don't know what happened, Cath. I mean … I knew she was having nightmares, but she kept telling me she was fine. I knew she wasn't the same as she was before, but … she had been abducted. That would change her, right? It changed Nick."

Catherine nodded.

Grissom finally looked up at her, his eyes over-bright. "We were going to get married, Cath. And, now, she's gone, and I don't even know if she wants that anymore."

"Oh, Gil," Catherine said, fighting against the excitement that came with the news that Grissom and Sara were engaged.

He shook his head and looked away from her. "I just … I don't know what I'm going to do now."

Catherine took his hand and held it silently. Grissom squeezed her hand, accepting the comfort and friendship she offered.

After so many years of friendship, and so many crises faced together, no further words were necessary.

* * *

Laura was in her kitchen, making herself a cup of tea, when her doorbell rang. She frowned, looking up at the clock. She rarely had visitors, and never so late at night. Assuming that the neighborhood children were playing a prank on her, she sighed and made her way to the door. She both mentally and physically steeled herself for a bucket of cold water or bag of flaming dog poop, and turned the doorknob.

Laura opened the door and stared at her visitor in shock. Two emotions hit her simultaneously: excitement that her daughter was there, and concern that her daughter was there.

"Sara," she said, finding her voice. She gave her a wide smile. "Come in, sweetie."

Sara stepped inside and stared at her mother with the eyes of the completely lost. "Mom," she whispered.

As soon as the word passed her lips, she burst into tears. Alarmed, Laura pulled her into a tight embrace. She held Sara to her and gently rocked her back and forth in a motion she had used to comfort her daughter since she had been a little girl. Sara buried her face in her mother's shoulder and sobbed out all her heartache and fear.

"Oh, Sara," Laura sighed. "What's wrong, baby?"

Her spasm of tears spent, Sara took a deep breath and pulled her emotions under control. "I couldn't do it," she whispered.

"Couldn't do what?"

"Stay there. Let him see me."

Suddenly very afraid, Laura took Sara's hands. "What do you mean, Sara? What happened to you?"

"Everything," she said. "Mom … I'm falling apart. I can't let Gil watch."

Laura released the breath she had been holding, and pulled Sara into the kitchen.

"Sit down," she said. "I'll get you a cup of tea."

"I don't want tea," Sara said.

Laura smiled slightly, thinking that, in some ways, Sara was still the same little girl she had been at the age of six. "It'll make you feel better."

After getting them each a cup of tea, Laura sat down at the table with her.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Sara shook her head, then slowly nodded. "I just … Mom, I don't know what's wrong with me. I have a job I love, where I'm making a difference. I'm engaged to the love of my life. I survived an abduction that should have killed me. And, now … I just can't do it anymore. I hate my job. I feel like we're not making a difference. I feel like my past is overwhelming who I am, and like Gil shouldn't marry anyone who's as screwed up as I am. I just …" Tears began to slide down her cheeks again. "I can't do this anymore."

"Okay," Laura said softly. "Okay."

"Mom," Sara sobbed. "What's wrong with me? Why am I like this?"

"Sara …"

"Please, Mom, help me."

"I'm going to help you, honey, I promise." Laura grabbed her hand, gently stroking the back of it. "What did Gil say when you told him?"

Sara shook her head. "I didn't."

"You didn't tell him?" Laura exclaimed. "Sara, he's probably worried sick if he doesn't know where you are!"

"I left him a letter."

"Did you tell him you'd be here?"

"No-o," Sara said slowly. "When I wrote it, I didn't know where I was going."

"Okay," Laura said. She released Sara's hand and got up to get the phone. She put it down the table in front of her. "Call him."

"What?"

"Call him. He needs to know where you are, and that you're safe."

"Mom, I don't want to talk to him. He'll ask questions, and he'll want me to come home, and –"

"Sara," Laura interrupted softly, "listen to yourself. You're talking about Gil. You know he's not going to push you to answer questions you're not ready to answer. And, although I'm sure he wants you home, he'll respect that you need time now. If he didn't, he wouldn't be the man you love. You just … Sara, you need to tell him you're with me, and that you're safe. He's going to go crazy worrying about you if you don't."

"I don't want him to worry about me."

"So, call him."

Sara nodded slowly, and picked up her mother's cordless phone. She slowly dialed Grissom's cell phone number. It rang twice before he answered.

"Grissom."

She nearly choked on a sob at the sound of his voice. "Gil," she said, her voice wobbly.

"_Sara_!" The relief in his voice was evident. "Oh, my God, honey, you scared me to death. Where are you?"

"I'm in San Diego, with my mom," she said. "I … I need to be with her for a little bit. Did Judy give you my letter?"

"Yeah, she did," he said.

"And, you read it?"

"I did."

She sighed. "Gil … I am so sorry."

"Sara, I love you," he said. "I want to help you. I'll come to San Diego to be with you. It'll take me a couple days to sort everything out, but I have a lot of vacation time saved and –"

"No!" Sara said quickly. "Gil … no. Please, I need to do this on my own. I … I can't deal with you watching me fall apart. I don't want you to see me like this."

"Sara, I love you," he said again. "Whatever is going on with you right now isn't going to change that."

"Please," she said. "I just … I need to do this on my own."

"You're sure?"

"Very."

He sighed. "Okay. I won't push. I'll just … I'll let you call me, okay?"

"Okay."

"And, Sara?"

"Yeah?"

"I _want_ you to call me," he said. "I want … I want us to be together."

She nodded, even though he couldn't see it. "I meant what I said in my letter, Gil. I'll love you forever."

He sighed. For the first time, love didn't feel like enough. "You'll stay safe, won't you?"

She smiled slightly. "I'm with my mother. What can happen to me?" Her smile faded. "You're the one who needs to stay safe."

"I will," he said. He sighed. "I miss you already."

Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. "I miss you, too. I'll call you again … when I'm ready."

"I'll be waiting."

"I love you, Gil."

"I love you, too."

Grissom waiting for her to say goodbye, but a quiet buzzing met his ear. She had hung up.

For the second time that night, he put the phone down next to him and dropped his head into his hands. _Why can't she talk to me about this? Why can't she let me help her? Why is this happening to us?_

_Natalie_. It had all begun with Natalie. Natalie had succeeded. She had taken Sara away from him.

She had won. He had lost.

He had never felt so defeated.


	15. Coping

A/N: Merry Christmas to all those who celebrate it! And, regardless of what you celebrate or believe, I wish the peace, love, hope and joy of the holiday season to all of you.

I don't own CSI. Minimal inspiration is taken from episode 808, "You Kill Me."

* * *

_Coping_

Her ringing cell phone jarred Catherine from a dream. Her hand fumbled across her nightstand until she picked up the small, vibrating, ringing object.

"Hello?" she asked sleepily.

"Catherine? It's Grissom. I'm sorry; did I wake you?"

"Gil," she said, suddenly fully awake. "Don't worry about it. What's up?"

He drew a deep breath. "I just talked to Sara. She's safe. She's in San Diego, with her mother. I just … I thought you'd want to know."

"Yeah," Catherine said. "Yeah, I do. That's good to know – that she's safe." She paused. "How are _you_, Gil?"

"I'm … relieved that she's safe." The words were chosen very carefully, and revealed very little of his emotional state.

"Right," Catherine agreed. "Is she … Did she tell you what her plans are?"

Grissom sighed. "Right now, I'm not sure she has any plans."

Catherine nodded, even though he couldn't see it. "Right."

"I should let you go back to sleep," Grissom said.

"No, Gil, it's fine. Do you want to talk? Or, do you want me to come over? Or meet you for coffee somewhere?"

"No," he said firmly. "Thank you, but, no. I just want you to get some sleep, so you'll be ready to go for work tonight."

"You're sure?" She already knew what his answer would be, but she felt compelled to ask.

"I'm sure."

"Okay. I'll see you at the start of shift, then."

"See you then."

"And, Gil?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for calling."

"You're welcome." He paused. "Thank you, too, Cath."

She smiled sadly. "You're welcome."

Another pause. "Bye."

"Bye."

Catherine waited until her phone beeped to indicate that the call had ended before slowly closing it. She sighed. She wanted so desperately to help Grissom, but he tended to be a very difficult man to help. There had to be something she could do …

Her eyes lit up as she realized that there _was_ something she could do. Then, just as quickly, the light was gone. She knew that she had to do it, but she wasn't happy about doing it.

She opened her phone again, and slowly began composing a text message.

_URGENT. Meet me at Frank's at 2100. Team-related._

She read the message several times before sending it. Finally convinced that it was the best she could do under the circumstances, she hit send, knowing that it would arrive at three phones simultaneously.

Within moments, she had three replies back, all assuring her that her team would meet her at the diner.

She heaved a sigh of relief. She needed to talk to them before they arrived at work. She couldn't imagine what it would do to Grissom to have to face the questions that the latest news would bring.

* * *

"Hi."

Laura looked up as Sara padded into the kitchen, wrapped in a robe with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her blood-shot, red-rimmed eyes suggested that her night had involved more tears that sleep.

"Good morning," Laura said. "I have hot water for tea. Would you like some?"

Sara nodded and collapsed into a chair at the table. Laura had a feeling that she wouldn't have been able to make herself the tea even if she had known where to find things in her mother's kitchen.

Laura put the tea down on the table in front of Sara and sat down across from her. "Sweetheart …"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to talk?"

Sara shook her head. "Not yet."

Laura nodded. "Okay. Breakfast?"

Sara shook her head again. "Just tea."

Laura sighed quietly. "Okay."

* * *

"Hey," Nick said, sliding into a seat across from Greg. "What brings you to Frank's on this fine evening? Runny eggs?"

"Ha ha," Greg said. "No, Catherine sent me a text asking me to meet her here."

Nick frowned. "Me, too. Do you know what's going on?"

"No idea."

"Hi, guys," Warrick said, sitting next to Nick. "Did Cath text you, too?"

"Yeah," Nick replied. "Do you know what's going on?"

"Nope," Warrick said. "But, when Catherine wants you to meet her, you don't say no, right?"

Nick and Greg chuckled. "Nope."

"She said it was team-related," Greg said. "You don't think that Ecklie's playing 'destroy Grissom's team' again, do you?"

Nick and Warrick exchanged worried glances.

"I hope not," Nick said. "Once is enough with that, don't you think?"

"I don't think he's going to mess with Griss right now," Warrick said. "Not after everything he's been through with Sara recently."

"Fair enough," Greg said. "What else could it be?"

"Well, I doubt one of us is getting promoted," Nick said. "Grissom would do that at work."

Warrick looked away and then back. "I have a feeling it's bad news," he said. "Good news is easy to share. Catherine wanted us to meet her before shift, at Frank's, without any prior warning? I'm really feeling bad news on this one."

Greg shook his head. "You're just being negative."

"No, I'm being realistic."

"Hi," Catherine said, sliding into the empty seat at the table beside Greg. "Thanks, guys, for meeting me."

"What's up, Catherine?" Nick asked. He glanced at the other two men at the table. "I have to tell you, we're all a little worried about what kind of news you're going to give us."

Catherine nodded and waved to their waitress. After she had ordered her coffee, she looked around at her team with sad eyes.

"It's bad, isn't it?" Warrick nearly whispered.

Catherine nodded. "Guys … there's no easy way to say this …"

"Just say it," Warrick said with a sigh.

Catherine drew a deep breath. "Sara's gone."

The color drained from each of their faces. Warrick found his voice first.

"What do you mean, she's _gone_?"

"I mean, she left Las Vegas."

"When?" Nick asked, his voice tight.

"Last night."

"Where did she go?"

"San Diego."

"San Diego?" Warrick repeated, frowning slightly.

"Her mom lives there," Greg said, his eyes wide and shell-shocked.

Nick's eyes widened with understanding. He looked at Catherine and nodded slowly. Her eyes met his, reading his dawning comprehension, and she nodded.

"You knew?" she nearly whispered.

"More or less," he replied. "I … I've been there, you know?"

"Yeah," she said, her voice tightening as she remembered seeing Nick in that Plexiglas coffin. "I know."

"I think … I think she'll be okay," he said slowly. "She just … Sara wasn't dealing with it well. She needed more support than any of us knew. And, when we tried to give it to her …" He shrugged. "You know how hard it is to help Sara. But, if she's with her mom … I think she'll be okay."

Greg and Warrick looked between them, both frowning. Warrick shook his head slowly.

"How's Griss holding up?" he asked.

"He's … holding up," Catherine said slowly. "But, guys, listen, I really don't think that this is a good time to –"

"You know what?" Greg asked suddenly, slamming his palms down on the table. "I'm not really all that concerned about how Grissom's holding up right now."

"Greg," Catherine began.

"No! Maybe if we had all worried a little more about how _Sara_ was _holding up_, she's still be here! Maybe, she wouldn't have thought she'd have to go all the way to San Diego to find some family! Maybe, if we had just acted like the family we all say we are – if Grissom had acted like the man he claims to be, Sara would be fine!"

Catherine looked stunned. "Greg –"

He jumped up before she could continue. "I'll see you guys at the lab."

Catherine looked at Nick and Warrick in shock as Greg stalked out of the diner.

"Greg and Sara are close," Nick said.

"Yeah, well, you and Sara are close, too, and I don't see you flipping out," Warrick said. "She's been like a sister to both of us since she got here, and we're dealing … so far."

"Yeah, but she and Greg … He's the only one who knew about her and Grissom, you know? I think he'd expect her to share something like this with him."

Warrick shook his head. "From what I've seen, she's not usually into sharing her emotions."

"But, you knew, Nicky?" Catherine asked.

Nick looked uncomfortable. "I'd rather not discuss it. Sara asked me not to tell anyone."

Catherine nodded.

"But, now, looking back …" Pain filled his eyes. "Maybe I should have told someone."

* * *

Sara spent most of the day in her room, lying on her bed. Laura stayed with her quite a bit. Most of her time was spent sitting next to her, holding her hand or hugging her tightly while she cried. Sara could barely pull herself together enough to eat, let alone talk.

It was a terrible day.

* * *

The first shift after Sara left was the longest Grissom could remember. Time seemed to speed up and slow down at random intervals. He had a feeling that Catherine had explained to the guys what had happened – Nick seemed far too kind, even for him, and even Warrick was more solicitous than he usually was. Greg, on the other hand, seemed to be avoiding Grissom like the plague. Grissom, for his part, did nothing to seek him out. He took a homicide solo, wanting to be alone as much as possible. He wanted to avoid the questions, the looks, and even the kindness. He just wanted to be alone.

The shift finally ended. Grissom put away everything he had been working on, and rushed home, stopping on the way to pick Hank up from the sitter.

It wasn't until he stepped inside the quiet, still house that he realized what a mistake he had made.

When he and Sara had started dating, he had made more of an effort to leave work on time on days they had plans for after shift. As those plans became more frequent, his days of working doubles without complaint became fewer. After they moved in together, they became almost nonexistent.

With Sara's move to swing, they stopped altogether. He could rarely be found staying even an hour after his shift ended. He always rushed home after work so that he could climb into bed with his sleeping fiancée, and hold her as they both slept. It bought them some extra time together, which had become a precious thing.

But, now …

His house was quiet. That wasn't completely unusual; Sara was generally asleep when he got home from work. But, this new quiet wasn't the quiet that meant that Sara was sleeping in their bed, curled around his pillow. It was the quiet that meant he was alone.

Suddenly exhausted, he dropped his keys and bag, and dragged himself into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator out of habit and poured himself a glass of milk.

_Skim milk. Tastes like water, but Sara says it's better for me._

His lips started to curve into a smile, but it was gone in an instant.

_Oh, God. What am I going to do without her?_

* * *

The next day, for the first time in months, Grissom worked a double.

The day after that, he worked a triple.

If his team noticed his new schedule, they did not comment. Grissom had a feeling that Catherine had a lot to do with that. Not for the first time, he felt extremely grateful for her friendship. Without her, his horrific new reality would have been impossible to endure.

* * *

Sara had been with her mother for four days before Laura dared to make a suggestion.

"Sara … maybe you should call Grissom."

Sara's head snapped up from the bowl of soup her mother had convinced her to eat. "What?"

"Maybe you should call Grissom," Laura repeated. "I think it would do you some good to talk to him."

"Mom … no. I can't let him see me like this." Tears welled up in her eyes again. "_I_ can barely stand to see me like this."

Deciding to skip the obvious comments that Grissom would want to help her through "this," Laura choose a different tactic. "Sweetheart, I didn't say to invite him for dinner. I just said to call him. I think it'll help you to hear his voice."

"Oh, Mom … I don't know."

"Sara, you love him. I know how much you love him. And, I know how much he loves you. I saw it firsthand when I stayed with you over the summer. And, I know that you're going through a lot right now. I know that you're doing everything you can just to hold yourself together. And, sweetheart, I'm proud of you for doing as well as you are. But, I also know that cutting yourself off from Grissom is like cutting yourself off from your heart."

A tear slid down Sara's cheek.

Laura reached across the table to grasp Sara's hands. "He _is_ your heart, Sara. Right now, your heart isn't broken. It's alive and well and waiting for you to touch it again. Without doing that, I don't think you'll ever be able to heal."

Her tears beginning to fall faster, Sara nodded. "I miss him, Mom. I miss him so much it hurts."

"I am _sure_," Laura said firmly, "that he feels the same way."

Sara nodded again and took a deep breath. "Okay," she said, her voice just above a whisper. "Okay."

* * *

Grissom staggered into his house in complete exhaustion. He had forgotten how tiring working doubles could be – or, perhaps, he just wasn't as young as he used to be. He certainly _felt_ older than he had only a few weeks before. Regardless of the reason, he was glad he came home so tired. All he wanted to do was to fall into bed and sleep until he had to leave for his next shift.

No time to think. No time to be alone.

No time to even dream.

His phone started ringing as he made his way into the bathroom. Sighing, he went back to his bedroom and picked it up from his dresser. He didn't even look at the caller ID.

"Grissom."

"Hi," Sara said, her voice wobbly.

"Sara!" he exclaimed. Suddenly, his exhaustion melted away. "How are you?"

"I'm … I miss you."

"I miss you, too, honey," Grissom said, sitting down on his bed. "I miss you so much."

Sara sniffled. "How's Hank?" she asked.

Grissom looked at the dog who was stretched out across the foot of the bed. "He's sleeping on the bed."

Sara gave a watery laugh. "You must not have been in bed, then."

"No," Grissom conceded.

"Are you up early, or …?"

"I just got home," Grissom replied. "I worked a double."

"Oh, that sucks."

"It's not so bad," Grissom said. "It gives me something to do."

Sara sucked in her breath sharply. "Gil …"

"Hey," he said, realizing what she was thinking. "Don't think like that. It's not your fault I can't amuse myself without you here."

She slowly released her breath. "I … Maybe I can help you with that."

"Oh? How?"

"Did my number come up on your caller ID?"

Grissom pulled the phone away from his ear to look. "Yes."

"This is my mom's number. Her landline," she said. "Obviously, I can't use my department cell phone anymore, and I don't have a new one yet, but …" She took a deep breath. "If you'd like to call me, this is the number where I can be reached."

Grissom's breath caught in his throat. "Yeah?" he managed to choke out, realizing what a gift she was giving him.

"Yeah," Sara replied.

"Thank you," Grissom nearly whispered.

Sara nodded. "You're welcome." She paused. "If you just got home, I should let you sleep. You still can get a few hours before your next shift starts."

"I'd rather talk to you."

She chuckled at that. "Your mind might want to talk to me, but your body will probably hate you for it."

Grissom shook his head. "It's what my _heart_ wants."

Sara's breath caught. "Well, darling, _my_ heart wants to know that you'll be well-rested for your next shift. Sleep now, and call me later, when you have time to talk."

How could he fight that? "Okay. I'll call you later."

"Good."

"And, Sara?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

For the first time in ages, she felt a spark of warmth inside her. "I love you, too."


	16. Support

A/N: Happy New Year!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episode 808, "You Kill Me." Additional inspiration is borrowed from episodes 722, "Leapin' Lizards" and 902, "The Happy Place" – and, if I owned CSI, that one would _so_ have a different title.

* * *

_Support_

Sara walked into the kitchen with the cordless phone in her hand. She put it back on its charger and looked at her mother with a slight smile. Laura sighed with relief.

"You talked to him?"

Sara nodded. "Just for a minute. He worked a double; he needs to sleep."

"And …?" Laura prompted.

"He said he'd call me later." Sara paused. "I … Mom, thank you for making me do that. I feel … better."

Laura exhaled and smiled. "Good."

* * *

Grissom shifted his papers across his desk and sighed. He needed results from Hodges, who, for once in his life, seemed to be taking his time with processing Grissom's evidence. Irritation filled him as he stood up to track down his Trace tech.

Grissom couldn't truly understand why he felt so irritated. He knew that Hodges annoyed the entire team, but he generally only found him to be … over-zealous.

Had his day been that terrible? _Not really_. Granted, both Brass and Nick had been a bit _too_ concerned about him, which certainly was irritating, but, he thought that his recent phone call from Sara would have negated any potential annoyance from his coworkers' solicitude.

"Oh, hey!"

Grissom turned to see Catherine coming up beside him. She fell into step with him.

"How are you?" she asked.

Grissom started and stared at her. "Why?" he asked defensively.

Catherine looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "I can't ask how you're doing?"

Grissom felt slightly ashamed for over-reacting. Catherine had been his rock since Sara had left; she deserved better treatment. "I'm sorry. I've just had a lot of … uh …" He waved his hands to try to convey … something … about the way their colleagues had been treating him. "I've been busy," he finished lamely with a shrug.

"Oh," Catherine said. "Well …" She clapped her hands together and grinned encouragingly. "Maybe you should take a few days off … for once in your career. I mean, you've got enough stored up." She paused, and the jovial tone left her voice. "Go after her."

Grissom sighed, wishing more than anything that he could. "It's not what she wants."

"Well, what do _you_ want?"

Grissom didn't even have to think before answering. "I want her to be happy."

He turned the corner to Hodges' lab, leaving Catherine behind. He could feel her eyes watching him as he continued down the hall alone.

He hoped that she would understand. With the others, although he appreciated their support, he just wanted them to leave him alone. But, with Catherine …

He really hoped she'd understand.

* * *

"I didn't want to leave him, you know."

Laura looked up from the book she was reading to see Sara curled up on the couch, staring at the blank television screen.

"I didn't." Sara turned to look at her mother. "I love him."

Laura marked her place in her book and closed it. "I know you do."

"I just … God, Mom, I've never felt like that."

"Can you tell me how you felt?"

"Useless," Sara said. She shook her head. "Do you know why I became a criminalist?"

"Because the San Francisco lab needed a physicist?"

Sara smiled slightly. "That's what I told you when I applied. But, that's not the truth. I did it … because of Dad. Because of what he did to us. Because I wanted to make sure that no one else had to live the way we lived."

"Oh, sweetie …"

"But, that night … fighting my way out from under that car … stumbling through the desert until I passed out …" She swallowed. "I realized that no matter how many criminals I catch, I'll never beat them all. It's … hopeless. My entire life … all that I've worked for since I graduated from college … has no point."

"Sara …"

She began to cry without warning. Laura jumped up from her seat and crossed to the couch. She sat down with Sara and wrapped her arms around her. Sara buried her head in her mother's shoulder and sobbed out her pain and frustration.

* * *

Grissom shifted some papers across his desk and unearthed his calendar. His eyebrows shot up as he realized what day it was.

"Tuesday …"

Sara always visited Tom and Pam on Tuesdays. She had begun her weekly visits shortly after Pam had been moved to Haven View Center once her doctors at Desert Palm had determined that she was well enough to leave their care.

Grissom had tried very hard to understand Sara's dedication to her weekly visits, especially at first. He couldn't understand what she gained from visiting a woman in a persistent vegetative state.

But, as the years passed and Sara continued to visit Pam and Tom … as Grissom and Sara's relationship deepened and blossomed, he began to understand. It wasn't just about Pam, although he was sure she felt genuine affection for the woman to whom she had never even spoken. Rather, it was about Tom. Pam's husband was with her on a daily basis, supporting her and loving her as best he could. Sara had developed a friendship with him; Grissom knew that her weekly visits were far more about Tom than about Pam.

He glanced at his watch. Sara generally visited them at around nine on Tuesday mornings – it was the one day she insisted upon leaving work on time. Tom likely had no idea she was gone … he would be expecting her.

Grissom looked at his watch again. _Three hours_.

He would be there.

* * *

After killing an hour sifting through his paperwork, Grissom was more than ready to move on to a new project. He looked at his watch; he had over an hour before he needed to leave for Haven View. He could go home, but …

He sighed. Without Sara, there seemed to be very little point in going home.

Deciding that a walk through the lab would be a welcome distraction, he got up from his desk and left his office. He saw Greg in the hall; he looked exhausted and ready to head home.

"Good night, Greg," Grissom said as he passed him.

"Yeah, whatever."

Grissom stopped and turned, but Greg was already almost to the end of the hall. Grissom sighed. He knew that Greg was upset by Sara's sudden departure, but he just didn't have it in him to support him through it.

Grissom started walking again, drawn forward by the sound of bizarre voices in the break room. He stopped in the doorway and watched as Hodges sacrificed a game piece into a glass of water.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Oh!" Hodges looked up and rescued the game piece from drowning. "Oh, I was, uh, just trying to … develop a board game based on this place. Not in any legally actionable sense," he hurried to add.

Grissom stepped closer and stared down at the board that was rather reminiscent of Clue with pieces that resembled his coworkers scattered across it.

"You get evidence, scenarios, analysis … try to solve diabolic murders," Hodges explained.

Grissom took the piece Hodges had nearly killed from him and looked at it. Then, he studied the board a moment longer.

"I like games," he said at last.

"Really?"

Grissom sat down across from him. "Yeah."

"Okay," Hodges said, suddenly excited. "Let's play."

Grissom smiled. Losing himself in a game was the perfect way to kill the time until he had to leave for Haven View.

* * *

Greg slammed his fist into his locker with enough force to turn his knuckles red.

"Whoa!" Nick exclaimed as he walked into the locker room. "What did that locker do to you?"

"Oh, bite me," Greg muttered.

"Seriously?" Nick asked. "A late nineties taunt?"

"You want something more recent, Nick? Fine. Get off my d-"

"Okay!" Nick cut him off. "What's wrong with you?"

Greg shook his head. "Like you don't know."

Nick glanced at his watch. They were well within their rights to leave. "Okay. You and I are going to Frank's."

"I don't think I'm in the mood for greasy bacon right now."

"Fine. Get the eggs instead. Or just a cup of coffee. But, you're coming with me."

Sighing, Greg slammed his locker closed and followed Nick out of the lab.

* * *

Grissom had to admit that Hodges' game was fun. He solved the case quickly, impressing Hodges.

"I am a mere Padawan in the presence of the Jedi Master," he said, folding his hands as if in prayer and bowing slightly.

Grissom smiled. "True." He glanced at his watch. He still had time before he had to leave. "Let's play another."

"Sure." Hodges reached for his deck of situation cards. He glanced at Grissom as he shuffled them. "You weren't ready."

Grissom frowned at him, smiling slightly.

"To leave," Hodges clarified. "This. The challenges, the puzzles … the job."

Realizing what he was getting at, Grissom tilted his head in acknowledgement of the truth in his words. "No."

"But, Sara was."

Grissom met his eyes. "Yeah, she was." He looked away, trying to hide the pain he knew was creeping into his eyes.

"You can't stand in the way of that," Hodges said, bringing Grissom's eyes up to his face again. "When it's time for someone to move on, you've just got to let them go."

_Great. Advice from Hodges_. "Let's just play the game, shall we?"

"Oh! Okay."

Hodges immediately began to describe the new scenario, and Grissom did his best to lose himself in the game once again.

* * *

"Hey, guys," Carrie, their usual waitress at Frank's, said as she brought them coffee. "The usual today?"

"Yes," Nick said.

Greg nodded.

"Coming right up."

Carrie left them alone, and Greg looked at Nick.

"Well?" he asked. "You called me here. Care to start this little heart-to-heart?"

Nick sighed. "Greg … it was what she needed to do."

Greg blinked. "Come again?"

"Look, I know that Sara is one of your best friends. She's been like a sister to me since she got here. We all love her. And, I know we'd all do anything for her. But, the truth is … right now, Sara needs more than we can give." He shrugged. "She had to leave."

Greg exhaled. "You can say that because she's just a friend to you. I could say the same thing. But, _Grissom_, Nick … Grissom should be able to give her anything she needs."

"I agree," Nick said. "The thing is, though, that she's got to be willing to _let_ him."

"Of course she'd let him. She loves him!"

"Yeah," Nick agreed, "she loves him. She loves him so much that she wanted to spare him the pain of seeing what being abducted and left to die in the desert did to her."

Greg frowned. "What do you mean?"

"She never told Grissom, Greg. She never told him how far gone she was."

Greg shook his head. "He should have known, Nick. We all knew. You could see it just by looking at her."

"No, Greg, you didn't know. Sara … I know she looked like she was _falling_ apart, but the truth is, by the time we realized she needed help, she had already shattered into a million pieces. And, as for Grissom … she hid more from him than she did from anyone."

Greg frowned. "And, you would know all of this, how, exactly?"

Their conversation was suspended as Carrie arrived with their food. They thanked her as she put their plates on the table. Once she was gone, Greg raised his eyebrows, clearly waiting for an answer to his question.

Nick exhaled. "Sara called me one night when Grissom was in New York on that FBI case. She had had a nightmare and … needed a friend."

Something flashed in Greg's eyes; he quickly looked down into his omelet.

"Look," Nick said, "I don't want you to think that Sara doesn't value your friendship. It's just … I've been there, you know? I know what it's like to be abducted by a lunatic. I know what it's like to spend hours and hours thinking you're going to die. I know what it's like to live through it. And … I know what it's like to wonder which would be worse."

Greg's head snapped up.

"I know she's thought it. I sure did." He sighed. "But, the important thing is, I got past it, and I know Sara can, too."

"You didn't leave," Greg blurted out. "You got past it without running away from all of us."

"Yes," Nick agreed. "But, I'm not Sara. I went to her house to hold her hand that night, and I learned how much she was hurting … and how little help she was willing to get. She wouldn't tell Grissom _anything_, Greg. He knew she was having nightmares, but there was so much more … it was so much deeper than just a couple nightmares. And, Grissom had no idea."

"She told you, but she wouldn't tell Grissom?"

Nick shrugged. "Like I said, I'd been there. But, she wasn't about to let me do anything to help her. And, she swore me to secrecy. She was terrified that Grissom would find out."

"Why?" Greg asked blankly. "He would have helped her."

"I think she didn't want him to know that she wasn't back to her old self. She didn't want him to think she couldn't deal with it. She didn't want him to think she was weak."

Greg shook his head. "That's ridiculous! He knows how strong she is! We all do!"

"I'm not sure that _logic_ is her strongest suit right now."

"Yeah," Greg said quietly. "I guess I can get that."

"My point is, Greg, you can't keep being angry with her. And, you definitely can't be angry with Grissom. Remember, the woman he loves just left him without a word. I think that he's hurting more than we can even imagine."

Greg nodded, suddenly feeling very ashamed. "I should talk to him."

Nick chuckled. "Yeah. Good luck with that."

* * *

Grissom walked into Haven View Center for the first time in his life. He had driven past it many times; he and his team had all worked cases that ended with victims who were, as Sara had put it while working Pam's case, too tough to die, sent to the center. From all that he had heard, the staff were kind people who treated their patients with respect; and, for the families of the center's residents, that respect meant everything in the world.

"Hello. May I help you?"

Grissom looked up from silencing his cell phone to smile at the woman at the front desk. "I'm looking for Pamela Adler?"

"Oh, we love Pam around here," the woman said with a warm smile. "It's so nice to know that she gets so many visitors. She's in room 218."

"Thank you," Grissom replied.

Taking a deep breath, he followed the signs to room 218. The door was slightly ajar when he arrived; he knocked on it before pushing it open.

"Hello," he said as he walked slowly into the room.

The man seated next to the bed jumped up and turned to look at him. "Hello …"

Grissom smiled. "My name is Gil Grissom. Are you Tom Adler?"

"Yes …" Recognition flickered in Tom's eyes. "You're … Sara's fiancé, right?"

Grissom's smile faltered slightly. _I certainly hope so._ "Yes."

Tom's smile widened; he crossed the room to shake Grissom's hand. "I've heard a lot about you over the years. It's great to finally meet you."

"Likewise." He glanced at the bed, where Pam was lying motionless, connected to a ventilator. "Is this Pam?"

"Yeah," Tom said, turning to give his wife a gentle smile. "This is my Pam." He crossed back to her bedside, and leaned down to speak to her. "Pammie, this is Gil Grissom. He's the man that Sara's going to marry."

Grissom moved closer to the bed. "Hello, Pam. Sara's told me a lot about you."

"You worked with her to catch the man who …" Tom's eyes lingered on his wife for a moment before he looked up at Grissom. "Thank you for that."

Grissom nodded. "Sara … she was the heart of that case."

Tom smiled. "I had a feeling. She's … all heart, isn't she?"

"Yeah," Grissom said, his voice catching slightly. "She is."

Tom glanced past him, at the door. "Is she coming behind you?"

"Uh … no, Tom, she's not."

"Oh." Tom's eyebrows shot up. "She's not sick, is she? I'd hate to think –"

"No, she's …" Grissom wanted to say _fine_, but couldn't. "She's … visiting her mother. She … had to go away for a while."

Understanding dawned on Tom's face. "I wondered."

Grissom raised an eyebrow.

"After what happened to her, I was surprised she seemed so _normal_. But, these past few weeks, she just sort of …"

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. "I think it's good for her to be with her mother now."

"Mothers can help so much," Tom said. "Pam's mother comes at least once a week to see her."

"I'm sure that's good for her." Grissom didn't specific which _her_, but he had a feeling that the visits meant far more to Pam's mother than to Pam herself.

"I think it means a lot to Pam," Tom said. He exhaled. "I know that it's hard to see her like this, but … Her doctors say she can still hear what we're saying to her. I try to talk to her as much as I can. There are so many experimental therapies … I know that they'll be able to bring her out of this one day. And, as long as we can keep her updated on our lives, she'll feel like didn't miss as much." He picked up her limp hand and pressed a kiss against the back of it. "She'll always know how loved she is."

"She is very lucky to have a husband like you," Grissom said.

Tom smiled. "Sara's lucky that she'll have one like you."

* * *

Grissom felt slightly dazed as he left Haven View later that morning. Tom's devotion to Pam was amazing, and very humbling. The man had spent years supporting his wife, hoping that one day she'd come back to him, even when she couldn't open her eyes to look at him.

Grissom pulled his phone out of his pocket. He needed to talk to Sara. He needed to let her know how much he loved her.

He was surprised to see his phone already lit up, telling him that he had a voicemail. He pressed the button to listen to it.

_Hey, Griss, it's Greg. Listen, I … I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for the way I've been acting. I miss Sara, but I know that you do, too, so taking it out on you isn't fair. So … yeah. If there's anything I can do for you, give me a call._

Grissom pulled the phone from his ear and looked at it in shock. His finger hovered over the seven key, which would delete the message, but then moved to the four. He'd save it. He smiled slightly to himself, then went to his newest contact to call Sara.

"Hello?"

"Laura?"

"Yes?"

"Hi. This is Gil Grissom."

"Oh, hello!" Laura said warmly. "I'll get Sara for you."

Grissom smiled as he climbed into his car, thinking that Laura was clearly not in the mood for formalities.

"Hi."

His smile widened. "Hey, beautiful."

Sara gave a slight chuckle. "I look awful … not that you'd know. You can't see me."

"Sure I can. All I have to do is to close my eyes. Remember the sonnet I sent you? _So, ei__ther by thy picture or my love, / __Thy self__ away, art present still with me –_"

_  
_"_For thou not farther than my thoughts canst mov__e, / __And I am stil__l with them, and they with thee_," Sara continued, her voice shaking with the tears that were running down her cheeks.

"_Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight / Awakes my heart, to heart's and eyes' delight_," Grissom finished. He exhaled. "Sara … I love you."

"I know. I love you, too."

"Honey … I just … I want you to know that I'm here for you. Always. I don't want to push you into anything you're not ready for, but I want you to remember that I am _always_ a phone call or plane ride away."

"Gil," Sara whispered. She swallowed. "Thank you."

"I want to help you, Sara. If staying away does that, then, good. But, if you get to a place where we can be together again … I will be there with you."

"No," Sara said.

"No?"

"Not _if_," she corrected, "_when_."

"_When_," Grissom repeated.

* * *

Sara hung up the phone and went in search of her mother. She found her in the laundry room.

"How's Gil?" Laura asked, glancing up from the sheets she was folding.

"Mom," Sara said, ignoring her question, "I need to get better. I need to be with him again." She took a deep breath. "I need to live my life again. I need to be _me_ again."

Laura turned to give her a glowing smile. "Darling, I'll do whatever you need. Just say the word."


	17. Finding Ghosts

A/N: Sorry about the delay in posting. I got hit with the stomach flu last weekend, which halted all my writing time! But, I'm pretty much back to full strength now, so I'm getting everything back on track.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration is taken from episodes 311, "Recipe for Murder" and 808, "Cockroaches." I also claim no ownership of Clark Bars, aside from the ones I've purchased and eaten.

* * *

_Finding Ghosts_

"I don't know what I need," Sara said, shaking her head. "I just know that I want to be me again." She closed her eyes for a moment and continued at a near whisper, "I want to remember who I am."

"Okay," Laura said, taking her arm and leading her out of the laundry room. "This is a good start. At least you know what you want."

"Yeah," Sara agreed, suddenly overwhelmed. "Where do I go from here?"

"Forward."

* * *

Grissom ran his hands over his face as he shifted yet another stack of papers across his desk. If he could say one good thing for paperwork, it was that it made for an excellent distraction. While doing case reviews, he had managed to forget, just for a minute, how much he missed Sara.

His phone rang, pulling him from what were sure to quickly become depressed thoughts.

"Grissom."

"Hey, Gil, it's Catherine."

"Hi, Catherine."

"Hey, can you join us at a scene? We've got two dead bodies, a crashed garbage truck, and several miles of trash to process."

Grissom's eyebrows shot up. "Sure. Who's with you?"

"It's just me and Greg."

Grissom glanced at the schedule on his bulletin board with a frown. Warrick should have been the first on the scene; Catherine and Greg should be been his back up. "Where's Warrick?"

"Look, Griss, we need your help," Catherine said, completely avoiding his question in a way that made him rather suspicious.

His frown deepened. "I'm on my way."

* * *

"When I left Vegas, I left Grissom a letter," Sara said. "I told him that I needed to bury my ghosts."

"Is that what you need to do?" Laura asked.

"I … I think it is." She swallowed. "I have spent my entire life trying to bury what happened to us. I've tried to pretend it never happened. I've never talked about it, never told anyone unless I was required to … except Grissom. He knows, and I think that's why he understands that I had to leave."

"We never really talked about it," Laura admitted. "After everything … it just seemed so much easier to forget about it. To move on with our lives."

Sara raised an eyebrow. "To move forward?"

"To move forward," Laura repeated. She sighed. "Sara … I'm sorry. You were just a little girl, but I was the adult. I should have known that you'd need to talk about it, and to deal with it. I shouldn't have let you bury it like that."

"Mom, I'm not saying that's not true, but … you would never have been able to convince me to talk. I wasn't ready." She shook her head. "I still don't know how Grissom got it out of me … I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about it even now."

"But, you need to," Laura said gently.

Sara nodded. "I need to." She paused. "Maybe … if I understood how we got to that point …"

"What do you mean?"

"Why did you marry Dad?"

Laura's face twisted into a bittersweet smile. "Because I fell in love with him."

"I've seen a lot of abuse cases," Sara said. "It's very rare that the abuse comes out of nowhere. There are always tendencies … signs …"

"Those are easily ignored when you're eighteen and in love with the man you're convinced will save you from your family," Laura said.

Sara frowned. "Save you from your family?"

"I've never told you about my parents," Laura acknowledged. "When you were little, it was easier not to talk about them at all. You knew Liz, and that was good enough for me. You never asked questions about your grandparents, and I never volunteered information. Even as you grew up and became an adult, I never wanted to bring it up – it felt too much like opening wounds that were far too fresh for both of us."

"Will you tell me now?"

Laura drew a deep breath. "You know how I met your father, right?"

Sara nodded. "You ran into him at the train station in San Francisco."

"Right. What I never told you is that I was there because I was going to run away."

Sara's eyes widened.

"I was eighteen, and had graduated from high school the day before. All I wanted was to get out of San Francisco. I just wanted to get away from my father." She looked down for a moment, then met Sara's eyes. "He was abusive. He would beat my mother, my sister, my brothers and I all the time."

"Oh, Mom …"

"Abuse is rarely admitted now," Laura said. "Back then, you _never_ spoke of it. It wasn't like now, when children can be taken from their parents when they're being abused. Teachers and doctors could even look the other way. Even if someone had challenged my father about the bruises, he could say it was discipline, and it would be fine." Her face twisted. "Even my mother's bruises could have been considered 'discipline' by certain people."

"What happened?"

"We all left as soon as we could," she said. "My oldest brother, Frank, left even before he graduated from high school – as soon as he was eighteen, he moved away. I haven't seen or heard from him since. Rob, my second brother, waited until graduation, but he left the next day. I still get Christmas cards from him, but that's the only contact we have." She shook her head. "I resented them for it at the time. I was only thirteen when Frank disappeared, and sixteen when Rob left, but both times, I thought they should have found a way to take Liz and me with them. They were our older brothers – they should have defended us."

Sara nodded slowly. "I can understand why you'd feel that way."

"Looking back now, I know how foolish it would have been for them to take us. They probably could barely provide for themselves – how would they have been able to take care of two little sisters? But, they left us in such misery … My father was so angry when they left, and we were the only ones there to bear the brunt of that anger …" She wiped rather impatiently at the tear that slid down her cheek. "Then, I turned eighteen, and I suddenly understood how they had felt. I wanted so badly to leave, but it killed me to think of leaving Liz behind. In the end, though, I knew I had to get out. I promised I'd come back for her when I could."

"Survival instincts," Sara said. "You had to save yourself."

Laura nodded. "I went to the train station to buy a ticket as far away as I could get with the money I had. Then, as I walked in, this man on his way out bumped into me. We both started to apologize, and …" She smiled sadly. "He was so handsome. He had these beautiful, brown eyes … You have his eyes, you know. The color … not the shape. They're shaped like mine."

Sara nodded. She had heard that more than once.

"He smiled that smile of his, and I was hooked. He said he was new to town, and I offered to show him around. We spent the afternoon together, and I was home in time for dinner."

"You didn't leave home?"

"I stayed for six months," Laura said. "Malcolm and I dated for that long. I learned that he was from Pittsburgh; he said he moved to San Francisco because he'd always wanted to live near the ocean. I didn't know that he was running away, too."

"Wait," Sara said. "I've been to Pittsburgh. I've met Dad's parents. You can't tell me –"

"They were old by then, Sara. His father had spent a lifetime working in a steel mill. He was old, and tired, and I'm sure he didn't have it in him to hit anyone anymore by the time you met him."

Sara shook her head, trying to reconcile the memory of a grandfather who would sneak her Clark Bars when her parents weren't looking with the idea of a man who abused his wife and children.

"After six months, I finally came clean and told Malcolm that I had been at the train station that day because I wanted to run away from home. I told him about my father beating us, and about my brothers leaving." She swallowed. "I can still see the entire scene. I was sitting in his living room – he had a little apartment by then – sobbing on his couch while I told him everything. He jumped up and started punching the wall, saying that he'd kill my father for hurting me the same way his father hurt his mother and his sisters." Laura wiped away other tear. "Then, he promised to make a new life for me, and asked me to marry him. We got married that night, and the next day, I moved into his apartment.

"At first, it was like a game," Laura continued. "We were so young – we were like two kids playing house. We both had jobs at first, so we could make all the bills. I was close enough to home that Liz could come to stay with us when things got bad there, so I didn't feel like I had abandoned her."

"It sounds nice," Sara said.

"It was, for a few months," Laura agreed. "I think we had been married six months when I lost my job. I was a secretary at a dentist's office, and they were cutting back. Malcolm was great about it at first, and I thought it was sign. I thought I'd play housewife and wait to get pregnant so I could be a mother." She turned tender eyes on Sara. "Whatever else you think at the end of this, you have to know that I wanted to be your mother from the very beginning."

Sara nodded.

"I didn't realize how tight the money would get. Malcolm would get angry every time I spent money on anything – and, truly, we didn't have the money to spend. One day, I went out for a walk, and came home with a new pair of shoes." Tears filled her eyes. "That was the first time he hit me." She wiped at the tears, but couldn't stop them from falling. "For twenty years, I blamed myself for the abuse we endured. I'd always think back to that one day, to that one incident, and think that I had triggered all that anger, all that rage, all that abuse, with one frivolous purchase. It wasn't until after he was dead and I started seeing counselors that I realized it wasn't my fault."

"It wasn't," Sara nearly whispered. "Of course it wasn't."

"Oh, Sara, I did everything wrong," Laura said. "I thought it was just that one time … I thought he was a good man with a temper … I thought I could change him … I thought being a father would change him.

"We were both so excited to have you," she said firmly. "Malcolm was absolutely tickled to be a daddy. He adored you, and he was so proud of you – his little genius."

Sara nodded. "I remember."

"And, yet … nothing really changed, except to get worse. Even when we grew up a little, and had the bed and breakfast, he was abusive. And, I was so under his spell that I was powerless to leave him behind." She gave a bitter laugh. "I met him when I was trying to run away from my abusive father, and ended up marrying him, a man who was just as bad."

"It was what you knew," Sara said.

"It was," Laura agreed. "That certainly doesn't make it better, but it does make it more understandable, I suppose." She shook her head. "For years, Liz would yell at me. She knew what was going on – which is something, because I went out of my way to hide it. She kept telling me that I needed to get you out of there, or you'd end up like me – thinking that it was normal for a man to hit you if he loved you." She smiled slightly. "Lizzie was always smarter than me. She would never tolerate that sort of thing in a relationship." The smile slid off her face. "She was right, though. I kept you away from my parents because I was worried about the influence they'd have on you, but I didn't do anything to protect you from your own father."

"I did think it was normal," Sara confessed in a small voice. "It wasn't until I was in foster care that I realized that not every husband hit his wife."

"Oh, Sara," Laura sighed, "I'm so sorry."

Sara smiled slightly. "It's over now."

Laura shook her head. "Isn't that what we're doing right now? Ending it? It hasn't been over for us, princess, and it never will be unless you start talking to me."

Sara opened her mouth, but no words came out. Tears gathered in her eyes.

"Do you need a minute?"

Sara nodded.

"Okay. I'll make us some tea."

* * *

"I'm worried about Warrick."

Grissom's abrupt entrance into her office brought Catherine's head up from her paperwork. "Come again?"

"He's late for scenes, ignoring your calls, and now he's obsessed with getting Lou Gedda –"

Catherine held up her hands to stop the flow of words. "I agree with you."

Grissom sat down across from her. "What can we do? How can we help him?"

"If you want my honest opinion, I think a lot of his problems are being caused by his divorce," Catherine said. "He's not handling it well."

"Yeah, he told me he was having problems with it. Then, he said he'd always fall back on the team for support, but that's not the same with Sara gone." Grissom couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice as he nearly spat out the last part of his sentence.

Catherine's eyebrows shot up. "That's an odd thing for him to say. Sara left the team ages ago."

"I know," Grissom said. "Part of me thinks he just said it to get me off his back."

"And, the other part?"

"Knows exactly how he feels."

Sympathy filled Catherine's eyes. "Gil …"

"Don't," he said quickly. "I'm fine. If you want to worry about someone, make it Warrick."

"All right," Catherine said. "Do you want me to talk to him? I've been down this divorce path. Maybe I can help him."

"Yeah," Grissom said. "Do that. Let me know how it goes."

She nodded. "I'm on it."

They left her office together – Catherine to find Warrick, and Grissom to return to his own paperwork, content in the knowledge that Catherine would straighten out their colleague.

As he sat down behind his desk, he couldn't help but think that, in a strange way, it may have been a blessing that Warrick was having such a hard time with his divorce. As long as he continued to fall apart, Grissom would have someone else to worry about – someone to take his mind off Sara.

* * *

"I thought it was normal," Sara said as her mother came in with their tea. "I swore I'd never get married, because I didn't want to have some man hitting me for the rest of my life."

Laura nodded.

"I didn't even want a boyfriend," Sara continued. "When we were in sixth grade, all the girls would talk about how cute the boys were, and which ones they wanted, and everyone started 'dating' – spending recess together and sitting together at lunch – and I … wouldn't. I'd spend recess and lunch alone – I'd go to the library, if I could, and study."

"I remember," Laura said softly. "I was so worried about you."

"Were you?" Sara was mildly surprised.

"I never understood it," Laura said. "You were this smart, sweet, pretty little girl, and you hardly ever talked about friends. You never brought anyone over. You never went to birthday parties or sleepovers …"

"I never understood the other kids," Sara confessed. "I was just … happier left alone to read." She shook her head. "I think I was too shy for my own good."

"Probably my fault," Laura said. "I should have taken you out more, exposed you to more other children before you started school –"

"When would you have had the time?" Sara asked with a bitter, mirthless laugh. "Dad would hit you if the house was out of order or dinner was late."

Laura flinched. "You're right."

"After Dad …" She frowned. "Why?"

"Why?" Laura repeated.

"Why did you do it? That day?"

No further clarification was needed. Laura sighed. "So many reasons. The biggest, I guess, was that I wanted to take you to see Liz. She had moved to LA at that point, and had cancer. They weren't giving her good odds, and I wanted to … see her one last time. Dad said no." She swallowed. "I blamed it all on that one incident, but I've learned that that was just the trigger. It was years of being abused, and, maybe even more importantly, knowing that in staying with him for as long as I did, I was setting you up to repeat the cycle."

"So, you did it for me," Sara said, her voice shaking slightly.

"That's what I told myself for a long time," Laura said. "As long as I thought it was about you, I could justify it in my mind. That way, I was a mother protecting my child, not a lunatic murdering her husband."

"You know, Warrick said something to me a long time ago …" Sara said. "He said his grandmother used to tell him that crazy people make even sane people do crazy things."

"Yeah," Laura agreed. "I guess that's about what happened, isn't it?"

"I felt like I was spinning," Sara said. "Or, like I was floating in the ocean in this little lifeboat with no hope of ever finding my way home again. All I wanted was to be in control of my life."

"You certainly took control, didn't you?" Laura said, pride creeping into her voice. "I've never known a child to work as hard as you did. Harvard … Berkley … your brilliant career …"

"Even with Grissom, it's been this wonderful, happy, controlled relationship," Sara said. "We kept it quiet because … Well, we're both private people, so we never would have shouted it from the rooftops, regardless, but we always told ourselves and each other that we had to keep it out of the lab so we could keep our jobs. But, to be honest, the secrecy sort of played right into my need for control. When others know about your relationships, they try to give you advice, and that was not something I wanted."

"It works for you," Laura said.

"Well, it _worked_, until Grissom outed us," Sara said with a rueful smile. "Though, at that point, I'm sure that secrecy was the last thing on his mind."

"I'd agree with that."

"That night, Mom, I lost control," Sara said. "When Natalie abducted me, she gained all the power, and all the control, and even though I fought with everything in me, I couldn't get it back." A tear slid down her cheek. "I still haven't."

Laura grabbed her hand. "Then, _that_, sweetheart, is what you need. That's what you've lost. That's the person you were that you need to find again. You need to feel in control again so you can move forward."

* * *

"Oh, hey, there you are," Catherine said.

"Hi," Grissom replied. "I don't have much time; Brass just called me to a scene. What's up?"

"I talked to Warrick."

"Warrick," Grissom repeated. "Do you know where I found him?"

Catherine closed her eyes. "Please don't tell me Gedda's club."

Grissom nodded.

"Oh, God. After you already sent him home for the night over this whole thing?"

"Yeah. He went back as a customer, thinking he'd order a bunch of booze and then refuse to pay for it."

"He's daring Gedda to beat him up?" Catherine asked.

"Yeah. I made him pay, put him in a cab and told him to sleep it off."

"He's a lucky guy."

"And, ironically, now I'm headed back to the same place for a DB. Want to come with?"

"Sure," Catherine agreed. "I'll fill you in on his marital problems on the way."

"How bad?" Grissom asked.

"Let's just say I can relate."

* * *

"Hey," Brass said as Grissom and Catherine ducked under the crime scene tape. He looked uncharacteristically serious. "We've got a problem."

"Other than a dead body?" Catherine asked.

"The dead body is in Warrick's car."

Grissom and Catherine exchanged a startled glance before they followed Brass to what was most certainly Warrick's car. A young woman was hanging from the back of it with her throat slit.

"No," Catherine said immediately. "No, this can't be – Warrick can't have – Gedda must –"

"Don't get ahead of the evidence," Grissom nearly barked.

Catherine looked at him in shock. "Gil, you don't think …?"

He shook his head. "I don't know what to think."

* * *

Grissom was riding to the morgue with the body when his phone rang. He took it out of his pocket with a bit of fear, but felt the tension start to ease from him when he read Sara's name on the display.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," she replied. "Are you still at work?"

"I am."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'll keep this short, then. I just called to tell you happy Thanksgiving."

Grissom started. He had completely forgotten the holiday. Now that she mentioned it, memories of their friendly argument over an appropriate Thanksgiving meal the year before filled his mind. He swallowed.

"Griss? Are you there?"

"Yeah, I'm here," he said. "I … Happy Thanksgiving to you, too."

"Are you okay?" Sara asked. "You sound … off."

Grissom opened his mouth to tell her about the last few days – about Warrick's downward spiral, about the dead girl found in his car. Then, he shook his head. It would only worry her, and that was the last thing she needed.

"I'm fine," he said. "It's just a tough case, that's all."

"Oh," Sara said. "Well, you'll solve it. I know you will. One step at a time, right?"

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. "One step at a time."


	18. Connections

A/N: Sorry I'm a little behind! I had a titch of writer's block on this one. I hope you enjoy it!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episode 810, "Lying Down with Dogs."

* * *

_Connecting_

Grissom snapped another picture of the body and slowly lowered his camera. His mind was swimming. He knew Warrick hadn't killed Joanna, the girl found in his car. His reaction when he saw her body – the look in his eyes … Grissom had spent his entire career reading people. Warrick was innocent.

He exhaled, wondering how much of his judgment was based on the fact that he _wanted_ Warrick to be innocent.

"Hey," Catherine said as she walked into the morgue. "Want some help?"

"Yeah," Grissom said gratefully.

Catherine stood across from him and began scraping under Joanna's nails. "How do you want to handle this?" she asked quietly.

"Warrick has to talk to IA," Grissom said. "Beyond that, it sort of depends on what they say."

"I didn't mean that."

Grissom sighed. He knew very well what she meant. "I'll take the case," he said. "You can take the rest of the team and handle all the other incoming cases."

Catherine raised her eyebrows. "You want to run this solo?"

"I want as little involvement from the team as possible," he said. "We all want Warrick to be innocent, and the more of us there are working on it, the easier it will be for us to talk each other into seeing what we want to see."

"Okay," she said. "Do you want me to run the shift?"

"Yes."

"Consider it done."

He smiled. "I already do."

"And, look, if you do need help … or just a sounding board …"

"I know," he said. "Thank you."

She smiled. "That's what friends are for."

* * *

"I have an idea."

Sara looked up as her mother walked into the living room. "Okay," she said slowly, putting her book down.

"I still have all of our things from … before," Laura said, sitting down next to Sara on the couch. "I kept them in a storage locker. I didn't really want them in the house, but, for some reason, I couldn't part with them. So … I was thinking … maybe it would be good for us to go through them. To see what's there."

Sara was silent for a moment, considering all the implications of such a venture. It would certainly be painful, but it was a necessary pain. She needed to do this. She needed to conquer the past before she could face the future.

"Sara? What are you thinking, princess?"

Sara nodded slowly. "Let's do it."

* * *

Grissom was studying crime scene photos when his phone rang. He picked it up to see Brass' name across the screen.

"Grissom," he said as he answered it.

"I need you in PD," Brass said without a greeting.

If Grissom was surprised, it didn't come through in his tone. "I'm on my way."

* * *

Grissom found Brass in his office, pacing the small room in agitation. Grissom knocked on the open door before entering. Brass watched him walk in.

"We've got a problem."

"Quite a few, really," Grissom said, sitting down. "What's wrong now?"

"Warrick is out of control."

Grissom sighed. "He has been for awhile."

"Gil, I need you to be straight with me. Do you believe he did this?"

"No," Grissom said. "Unfortunately, he also didn't listen to me."

"What do you mean?"

"I found him at the club after I sent him home," Grissom said, running his hand over his face. "I made him pay his tab and got him a cab. I told him to go home."

"Which he didn't do."

"Clearly."

"You should have put him in your car and driven him home," Brass said, his agitation sliding toward anger.

"I have to trust the people I work with, Jim," Grissom said.

"Warrick's a loose cannon, we both know that. He was in Gedda's strip club –"

"He was off the clock," Grissom interrupted.

"Conducting his own police investigation!" Brass finished as though Grissom had never spoken.

"He's very passionate about this case," Grissom said.

"Yeah, passionate enough to sleep with the vic who ended up dead in his car."

Grissom had no answer for that. He couldn't deny the truth of Brass' words.

"Look, I know Warrick didn't have anything to do with it," Brass said, calming down. "But, he needs to _back off_."

Grissom exhaled. He wondered if Brass would have better luck than him of convincing Warrick of that.

"Guys like Lou Gedda, they don't skip on murder and extortion by being _lucky_," Brass continued finally sitting down behind his desk.

Grissom looked at him closely, tilting his head to the side. "What does that mean? You think Gedda's got friends? Inside the department?"

Brass nodded slightly. "Well, unlike Warrick, I don't make accusations until I have proof."

Grissom looked away for a moment, then back at Brass. "Okay. What do you want me to do?"

"Run it as you would any other investigation. Keep Warrick out of it. Don't tell him anything that isn't absolutely essential – and, given that he's not working the case, that's everything." Brass shook his head. "Believe me, I'd like nothing better than to take down Gedda. But, we can't do it unless we do it right. We've got enough to fight without having to fight the guys we _know_ are on our side."

* * *

"Are you ready?" Laura asked, putting the key into the lock of her storage unit.

Sara nodded. "Do it."

Glancing at her one last time to be sure she was ready, Laura turned the key and opened the door.

Sara wasn't sure what she had expected, but it wasn't rows of neatly stacked and organized things. It was … like looking through old evidence. She let out a relieved laugh that brought Laura's eyes back to her face.

"Sara? Are you okay?"

"I'm … relieved," Sara said. "I don't know … in my head, I was thinking that this would be like walking into our old house the way it was that night. I almost expected to see cast-off on the walls. But, this … this I can handle. This is like pulling evidence out of storage."

Laura shook her head with a tolerant smile. "That's my little CSI. Where do you want to start?"

Sara shrugged and waved her hand to her right. "How about here?"

"Works for me."

Sara and Laura each picked up a box and opened them. Laura's eyes widened.

"These are the pillows from the living room."

"I found our stereo system," Sara said. She giggled. "Slightly larger than what we have now."

Laura rolled her eyes. "Sara, an iPod does not count as a stereo system."

"Well, your turn table is a bit out-dated, Mom."

Laura smiled. "Come on. Next boxes."

They finished going through their living room things – Sara was delighted to find her favorite chair – and moved on to the kitchen. They both grew quiet as Laura opened a box containing her knives.

"It won't be there," Sara said quietly.

Laura looked up at her with questions in her eyes.

"The knife you used to kill Dad," Sara clarified. "It'll still be in evidence."

"Sara … when you worked at the lab in San Francisco, did you …?"

Sara shook her head. "I thought about it so many times," she said. "But, I could never do it. A few years ago, I did look up all the case details."

"And?"

She smiled sadly. "I read the whole thing. Cover to cover. No surprises. Everything was as I remembered."

"Why did you look it up?"

"There was this case … a little boy died. He had been in foster care for awhile – his mom had beaten in her abusive boyfriend's face with a brick. Anyway, she took him and his brothers out of foster care as soon as she could, but she left them with her cousin while she went to find work out of town." She shook her head as the horror of the case came back to her. "Let's just say that leaving your kids with your stripper cousin is never a good idea."

"Oh, no."

"We saved two of them," Sara said. "Thank God. But, while we were working the case, we interviewed the foster mom. I talked to some of the kids. I guess it just … made me remember. And, I wanted to make sure that what I remembered was what actually happened."

Laura shook her head. "I should have found another way."

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "But, I don't blame you for doing what you did. There's only so much you can take before you snap, right?" She looked down. "That's why I'm here right now, isn't it?"

"It's hardly the same thing, Sara."

She looked up with teary eyes. "It might as well be. After everything we've been through … I just _left_ him …" She trailed off into silence.

"I think we've seen enough of the kitchen," Laura said, closing the box that held her knives. "Let's try over here."

Sara nodded and followed her mother across to the other side of the unit. Laura lifted down two boxes, putting one in front of Sara. Sara gasped, and Laura's head jerked around to look at her.

"What?"

"_Look_!"

Laura frowned, realizing that Sara wasn't looking into her box. She was looking at the space Laura had uncovered when she moved the boxes. Her eyes softened as she caught sight of the Sánchez Coello painting that had hung in Sara's bedroom for years.

"Your princesses," she said.

To her surprise, Sara burst into tears.

"Sara! What's wrong?"

"Mom," she sobbed, "do you remember where we got that painting?"

"Some gallery in Venice Beach," Laura said, bewildered by her daughter's reaction to her beloved painting.

"Mom, it was _Grissom's mom's_ gallery. He's the one who sold it to us. He's the one who told me all about the princesses."

Laura's mouth dropped open. "How do you know that?"

Sara managed to stop sobbing, and wiped at the tears that were still falling. "We went to an art show last winter. They had this painting. I got all excited about it, and started telling Grissom about our gallery visit when you bought it for me. He remembered me – he remembered telling me about the princesses." She sighed. "So many years ago …"

"That's amazing," Laura said. "I can't believe he'd remember something like that. I can't believe that was _him_." She smiled at the memory. "He was so polite … so knowledgeable … Not that I'm surprised, of course …"

"Don't you get it, Mom? He's always been meant for me – even when I was too little to understand." Her tears began to fall faster again. "I miss him so much."

"Sara, why don't you invite him for a visit? Christmas is coming … he could spend the holidays here with us."

_Christmas_. Sara had forgotten. Now that her mother had mentioned it, she knew there was no way she could spend the holiday away from him.

"Okay," she said. "I'll invite him. I'll call him as soon as we get home."

Laura smiled. "Do you want to leave now?"

Sara nodded. "And … I want to take my painting with us."

* * *

Despite Grissom's insistence that Warrick stay off the case, he managed to get Mandy to share her print results with him. The only prints she found in his car that weren't Warrick's belonged to Richard Dorsey, a homeless man who lived in the alley near Gedda's club.

Grissom had to admit that Warrick's knowledge of the man's identity was helpful – he would never have known where to find him. Armed with at least some idea of where to find him – as well as Joanna's phone and a bloody knife –, he was able to bring Richard in for questioning.

Grissom and Brass interrogated Richard, whose explanation for the fact that he had been found with Joanna's phone was that he had stolen her purse.

"Then what?" Brass asked.

"I got high."

"Then what?" Brass pressed.

"I got high again."

"Then what? Did you kill her?"

Richard looked at Brass with surprised confusion.

"We found her purse and the bloody murder weapon in the place where you were sleeping," Grissom said. "We found her dead body inside this car." He slid a picture of Joanna's body hanging of Warrick's car across the table.

Richard's face twisted with sorrow as he picked the picture up to study it.

"Why did you pick that car, Richard?"

"I don't know what you mean," he said, unable to take his eyes from the picture.

"We found your fingerprint inside the car."

"No," he insisted. "That wasn't me. That – that was _them_."

"Who's _them_?" Brass asked.

"I can't talk no more."

The door was thrown open as Warrick burst into the room. "Come on, tell the truth!"

"Get him out of here!" Brass said to a uniform.

"You!" Richard yelled.

"Tell the truth!" Warrick said again.

"This is all your fault!" Richard said.

"We'll take care of you! We'll get you into rehab!" Warrick said as the uniform forced him out of the room.

"There is no truth!" Richard jumped out of his seat; the chair toppled over behind him.

"Tell the truth!" Warrick yelled again.

"_There is no truth_!"

Grissom left Brass alone with the homeless man and followed Warrick into the hallway. "Hey!"

Warrick turned to face him.

"As of right now, you're suspended for two weeks."

Warrick's face twisted in disbelief. "Grissom, you and I both know that Gedda killed that girl and pinned it on that bum! They gave him drugs, got him high, and planted the evidence! You've just got to give me a chance to prove it!"

"You've had all your chances," Grissom said, his anger climbing with Warrick's outrage. "You take the suspension, or you're _fired_."

For three seconds, Grissom and Warrick engaged in a staring contest. Warrick finally blinked, and stalked out of PD.

Grissom exhaled.

"What the hell was that?"

Grissom turned to see Brass coming out of the interrogation room. He shook his head. "I wish I knew."

"Well, our bum is a wreck now. It's going to take a couple hours to calm him down again."

Grissom sighed. "Yeah. I figured as much." He paused. "I gave him a two week suspension."

"Good," Brass said. "Maybe now we'll be able to get this case solved."

"Yeah," Grissom said quietly. He looked at his watch. "My shift ended an hour ago. Can we just try this again tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Brass agreed. "Get some sleep."

Grissom shook his head. "Doubtful. I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

Once he was home, Grissom took the dog for a walk, then sank down on his couch in exhaustion. He rested his head in his hands, shaking it slightly.

"Why can't he just …?" He sighed, knowing that as much as Warrick's current behavior concerned him, he wouldn't change him. His passion was what made him a great CSI.

"He just needs to channel it differently," he muttered.

His phone rang. He grabbed it without thinking. "Grissom."

"Okay, what the hell is going on?"

"Hello, Catherine. Lovely to hear from you."

"Cut the crap. I just talked to Warrick. He says you suspended him for _two weeks_?"

"He wouldn't stay away from the case, Cath. He defied me at least three times, and, as a final straw, he barged into my interrogation, agitating my witness to the point that Brass doesn't think we'll get anything out of him for hours – if at all. He's totally out of control. He needs the time away so he can calm down and come back to work."

Catherine exhaled. "This is the only way?"

"Short of firing him."

"Okay," she said slowly. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure."

"All right. I respect your decision."

Grissom raised his eyebrows. "I didn't expect _that_."

"What did you expect?"

"That you'd argue with me. Tell me I'm overreacting. Remind me to be in touch with the human element."

"I only do that when you're wrong."

"Yeah," Grissom said quietly. "Thanks, Cath."

"You're welcome. I'll see you at work?"

"I'll be there."

"Okay. Get some rest."

"You, too."

Grissom ended the call. He had just put the phone down on the table when it rang again. He smiled.

"You've decided I _am_ wrong?" he asked to answer it.

"Um … about what?"

He frowned. "Sara?"

"Yeah. Who did you expect?"

"Catherine," Grissom said honestly. "We were just talking and … well, it's a long story. How are you?"

"Okay," Sara said.

"Really?"

"Really."

Grissom smiled. For the first time in a long time, he believed her. "That's great."

"I, um … I actually called to ask you something."

"Okay."

"What are you doing for Christmas?" she asked in a rush.

Grissom frowned. "What?"

"I – Gil, I want you to come here for Christmas. I want you to spend it with me."

Grissom's mouth dropped open slightly.

"Griss? Are you there?"

"Yeah," he said, a smile spreading across his face as warmth and lightness he wouldn't have thought possible only a few minutes before spread through him. "Yeah, I'm here."

"Well … what do you think …? I mean, if you can't get the time off, I understand. I just thought that it might be nice if we could –"

"Sara," he interrupted, "stop. I want to come."

"You do?"

"Of course I do," he said with a chuckle. "I'll talk to Ecklie and Catherine. I'm sure we can work something out so I can get some time off."

"Really?"

"Sara," he said, "I have been waiting for this call since I read your letter. I miss you so much it hurts. I will do anything I can to see you and spend time with you."

Ever-present tears gathered in Sara's eyes. "I miss you, too. I want to see you more than anything."

"I'll make it happen."


	19. Renewal

A/N: Sorry about last weekend! Our semester ended, so I was buried beneath exams. This weekend, on the other hand, I'm buried beneath two feet of snow. This "snowmaggedon" thing isn't messing around! I'm just grateful to have electricity … and a snow day tomorrow.

I hope you enjoy this (ridiculously fluffy) chapter. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI, Windows XP or Target. Grissom and Sara quote (what else?) Shakespeare's Sonnet 47.

* * *

_Renewal_

Sara stared at the phone for a full five minutes before she felt ready to make the call. Drawing a deep breath, she pressed the familiar number pattern.

It rang three times. She was already mentally composing her voicemail message when the call was answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mary."

"Sara?" Mary asked incredulously. She pulled her phone away from her ear to make sure she hadn't read the caller ID wrong. She hadn't; it wasn't Sara's number.

"It's me," Sara was saying as Mary put the phone back to her ear.

"Where are you? Whose phone is this?"

"I'm … with my mom," Sara said.

"In California?"

"Yes."

"Did you go for Christmas?" Mary asked. "That's sweet. You guys haven't had Christmas together in years. Is Grissom there with you?"

"Um … Mar, wait. No. That's not what's going on."

Mary frowned. "What _is_ going on?" she asked.

"I … um …" Tears gathered in Sara's eyes. "I've got a problem, Mar."

"What happened, Sara?" Mary asked, barely controlling the fear in her voice. "Did something happen with you and Grissom?"

"No … yes … I … I left Vegas," she finished in a rush after her very slow, halting start.

"What do you mean?" Mary asked, still in the same deliberately calm tones.

"I … I guess I fell apart," Sara said, the tears beginning to cascade down her face in hot streams. "I turned into a woman I didn't even know, and … I had to get out. So, I ran away. I've been with my mom for about a month."

"A _month_?" Mary exclaimed. "Why didn't you call me sooner?"

"I didn't want you to know," Sara said. "It's hard enough that my mom, Grissom and all my friends in Vegas know that I'm weak enough to break like this. I couldn't bear you knowing, too."

"Sara," Mary said firmly, "you are _not_ weak. What you lived through … sweetie, the experience alone would have killed most people. You fought your way out, and you … you just tried to bounce back too hard, too fast. You need a rest, that's all. You'll be back on your feet before you know it."

Sara drew a shaky breath. "I want to believe you, Mary. I want to go back to being myself more than anything."

Mary was silent for a moment. "Sometimes, Sara, after something like this …" She paused again. "I'm not sure you'll ever be the _same_ you again. But, I know that you'll be an even _stronger_ woman than you were before everything happened. You'll be … Sara XP."

Sara couldn't help but laugh. "Aren't they coming out with something new?"

"Yeah, but it's not out yet," Mary said, pleased to hear the laughter in her friend's voice. "Then again, maybe that _is_ you … the newest version that's yet to be unveiled."

"Mary," Sara said, sobering, "I'm not sure I want to be a new version of me. I liked who I was before … the desert."

"Sara, we can't ever go back," Mary said as she, too, sobered. "The past is over. You can't look back, and, right now, I'm not sure it's going to do you much good to grieve for what was." She paused, mentally preparing her next question. "Are you and Grissom …?"

"We talk a couple times a week," Sara said. "And, he's coming to visit me for Christmas."

"Good," Mary said. "As long as you're bringing him along for the journey to the new Sara … I don't think you have any reason to mourn for the past at all."

* * *

Sara felt like a little girl again as Christmas approached. She couldn't remember the last time she had been so excited for the holiday. Even the last two Christmases she had spent with Grissom couldn't compare to the excitement of seeing him for the first time in over a month.

"Should we get a tree?" Laura asked as she and Sara folded laundry together. "I haven't had one since you moved out, but I saw some nice ones at Target the –"

"No!" Sara's head snapped up from the towels in front of her. "Mom, we can't get an artificial tree. It just isn't right."

Laura smiled tolerantly. "Okay, Mrs. Claus, I didn't mean to offend you."

Sara bit her lip and glanced down, then up again. "It's just … Christmas trees are very important to Gil. We've gone to get a real one the past two years, and I just … I can't imagine having Christmas with him with an artificial tree."

"Okay," Laura said. "Are you saying you'd rather wait until he gets here to get a tree? He could go with you."

Sara's eyes lit up. "He won't be here until the day before Christmas Eve."

"I'm sure there will still be some trees left in town."

A beaming smile lit Sara's face. It was all too perfect.

Laura had always hated real Christmas trees. She had a very low tolerance for the pine needles that they spread through her house. She would be cleaning them up until March. But, if it meant seeing Sara smile like that …

She'd gladly sweep up the needles.

* * *

Sara stood in baggage claim with her new cell phone clutched in her hand. It began to vibrate even before the ring tone sounded. She grinned as she answered it.

"Are you here?" she asked.

"I am," Grissom replied. She could hear the smile in his voice.

"Where are you?"

"Turn around."

Sara turned and saw him standing behind her, holding his phone. Her smile widened as her eyes met his. Without another word, she flung herself into his open arms. He pulled her to him, holding her tightly as she began to sob against his chest.

"Hey," he said, pulling back enough to look at her. He ran his fingers over her cheeks, catching her tears. "What's wrong?"

"I'm … I love you so much."

He smiled and cupped her cheeks in his hands. "I love you, too."

Sara leaned up as Grissom leaned down, and their lips met in a sweet, gentle kiss.

* * *

"So, what's the plan?" Grissom asked as he and Sara settled themselves in her mother's car.

"We're going to go home first, and get you settled," she said. "Then, if you'd like, I thought we could go get a Christmas tree."

He frowned. "You don't have one?"

"Mom apparently hasn't done trees since I moved out, and …" She smiled. "I can't imagine getting a tree without you."

Grissom smiled and reached across to squeeze her hand. "Let's do it."

"Good," Sara said, smiling happily. "Depending on how long that takes, we should have time to decorate it before I have to pick Mom up at work."

Grissom frowned slightly. "Pick her up?"

"This is her car," Sara said. "My car is … I don't have a car here," she finished.

Grissom nodded. Her car was still in its parking space at their house in Las Vegas. "Where does she work?" he asked, more for something to say that would at least somewhat change the subject than any actual curiosity.

"She's a pediatric nurse at St. Joe's Hospital," Sara said. "After … everything, she went back to school for her nursing degree." She smiled slightly. "She started working in hospitals around the time I graduated from high school. Always pediatrics. At first, it was just because she liked kids. But, after awhile, the doctors noticed how good she is with the abuse victims, and …" She paused. "Let's just say she gets pulled out of bed quite frequently to go to work."

Grissom nodded. "That must be where you get it," he said quietly.

"Get what?"

"All that compassion."

She smiled and flushed. "I thought that was a bad thing."

Grissom shook his head. "No, honey. It's a very, very good thing."

Her blush deepening, Sara stared at the road in front of her. The smile tugging at her lips told Grissom how much his compliment meant to her.

He picked her hand up – she was driving with just her left hand in a habit that always made Nick nervous – and pressed a kiss against the back of it. Sara chanced a glance away from the road to look at him. He smiled at her. She returned the smile, then looked back to the road.

"I'm glad you're here," she said quietly.

"I am, too."

* * *

As soon as he walked into Laura's house, Grissom could understand why it was so healing for Sara. It had a quaint, homey feel to it that immediately made him feel at ease.

"This is a nice house," he said.

Sara nodded. "Yeah, Mom seems to like it. Here, I'll take you on a tour."

Grissom followed Sara around the house, making appropriate comments as they passed through each room. She ended the tour in her bedroom.

"Look, Mom and I haven't discussed this, but I really think it's fine if you stay with me," she said in a rush. "I mean, there's another guest room, but it just … I want you to stay with me," she finished.

A slow smile spread across Grissom's face. He put his hands on her hips to draw her to him. Sara wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself tightly against him.

"Now, why would you want me to stay with you?" Grissom teased, nuzzling her neck.

Sara tipped her head around to catch his lips in a kiss. "I've missed you," she whispered against his lips.

"I've missed you, too," he replied, his hands skimming up under her shirt against her back.

"Gil …"

"Yeah?"

"Make love to me."

Grinning, Grissom led her to the bed.

* * *

"You've stolen my virginity yet again," Sara said, rolling over onto her stomach and looking up into Grissom's eyes.

"How this time?" he asked with a chuckle.

"I've never had sex in my parents' house before."

Grissom laughed. "Well, dear, that was a first for both of us. Not that Laura is my mother, but … I've never had sex in anyone's parents' house."

"Oo, it's about time I got to take your virginity over something," Sara said. She inched up to kiss him. "It wasn't as awkward as I thought it would be."

"How awkward can it be when there's no chance of your mother walking in on us?" Grissom asked, laughing again.

"We're going to have to be careful, aren't we?"

He shrugged. "We're all adults here. I think she'll be okay about it."

Sara looked horrified. Grissom laughed again.

"Only when she's at work?"

"Only when she's at work," Sara agreed. She looked at the clock on her nightstand. "We'd better get moving. If we don't have a tree in this house by the time we bring her home, I have a feeling she'll know why."

* * *

The tree selection wasn't quite what Grissom and Sara were used to, but it was fairly good, considering they had less than forty-eight hours until Christmas Day. They had fun walking through the picked-over lot, debating the pros and cons of each tree.

"This one only has two bald spots."

"Yeah, but it's so short. It'll look ridiculous in the living room."

"This one's taller."

"But, it's not a blue spruce."

Grissom smiled tolerantly. "Sara, I think we may have to give up the blue spruce dream this year. We're a little late to be picky."

"I suppose you're right. Okay, which is the least offensive?"

Grissom laughed. "What a lovely way to consider buying a Christmas tree."

Sara shrugged. "You just said it's too late to be picky."

"Fair enough. Which one can you live with, then?"

They finally managed to choose a tree. The lot attendant, who had been struggling not to laugh as he watched their debates over each tree, helped them secure it to the car.

"We have just enough time to get it in the stand and in the house before we have to get Mom," she said, glancing at her watch.

"No decorations yet?" Grissom asked.

Sara gave him a sultry smile. "We used that time _other_ ways."

"Indeed," Grissom said, giving her the look that never failed to make her weak in the knees.

Sara cleared her throat. "I'm sure Mom will want to help us decorate it, anyway."

"True." Grissom smiled. "Family bonding?"

"Looks like." Sara looked at him closely. "Are you up for it?"

Grissom smiled again. "It's why I came."

* * *

Taking the tree into the house was the usual exercise in trust. Sara held the top of the tree and walked facing backward while Grissom held the base and directed her steps.

"This is true love," Sara said with a sigh as she ran into a wall. "Next year, _you're_ walking backwards."

Grissom smiled. "If you'd like. But, you know, you _did_ over-correct that time."

"How is this _my_ fault?" Sara asked, the laughter in her eyes belying her harsh tone.

"I love you," Grissom said, blowing her a kiss.

"Yeah, yeah," Sara said, a beaming smile crossing her face. "That makes it a little better."

"Well, good," Grissom said. "I think we can set it down here."

Nodding her agreement, Sara helped him set the tree upright in the corner Laura had previously chosen. Once they were sure it was secure, they stepped back to admire their handiwork.

"Looks good," Sara said.

"Yes," Grissom agreed almost absently, staring at the tree.

Sara looked at him. "What's wrong?"

"How did you get the tree out of the house last year?"

Sara looked at him blankly. "Huh?"

"Last year," he said again. "I left for Williams right after Christmas. The tree was still in the house when I left, but when I came back … I just realized that it was gone."

"Oh," Sara said with dawning understanding. "Greg helped me take it out."

"Greg?"

"Yeah. I called him to beg for assistance." She shrugged. "At the time, he was the only one in Vegas – other than Brass – who knew about us. It seemed like a logical choice."

Grissom nodded. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have left you alone with that task."

"You shouldn't have left me with all those books to unpack either," Sara said with a shrug. "I forgave you for both long ago." She leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Don't worry about it."

Before Grissom had time to reply, the clock chimed. Sara jumped slightly.

"Mom! Do you want to come with me to get her?"

"Of course," Grissom replied. "I didn't come all this way to sit in this house without you."

Sara smiled. "Let's go."

* * *

Sara pulled into a parking space in the visitor section of the hospital's parking lot. She and Grissom got out of the car and stood leaning against it in full view of the front doors.

"I'm excited to see your mom," Grissom said.

Sara looked at him in surprise. "You don't have to say that."

"I know. I mean it." He took her hand. "She helped us through a really difficult time, Sara. I'll never forget that."

Sara smiled slightly. "She's my mom. It's her job."

"It's what she _wanted_ to do," Grissom said. "She didn't do it out of obligation. And, that means a lot."

"It means a lot to me to hear you say that."

Their conversation stopped as Laura walked out the front doors. She saw them standing against the car, waved, and picked up her steps.

"Hello!" she called as soon as she was close enough not to actually have to shout.

"Hi, Mom," Sara replied.

Laura stopped in front of them, and immediately pulled Grissom into a hug. If he was startled, he didn't show it as he hugged her back.

"Did you have a nice flight?" she asked, releasing him.

"Yes," he said. "I got some sleep on the plane."

Sara's eyes widened. Now fully accustomed to a "normal" schedule again, she had forgotten that Grissom's internal clock probably had him begging for sleep. She had dragged him out and made him help her with a heavy Christmas tree, not to mention –

"I took yesterday off, to try to get myself back to a daytime schedule," he continued as though he had read Sara's thoughts. "All the same, it was nice to get a couple extra hours."

"I'm sure," Laura replied. "Has Sara shown you around town?"

"Not much yet. We did get a tree, but that's about all."

Laura smiled. "Yes, she was excited about that."

"You'll like it, Mom," Sara said. "It's really pretty."

"Well, let's get home then, so I can see it."

* * *

For all her misgivings, Laura was very excited to see the Christmas tree in her house. She studied it critically for a moment.

"There weren't many trees left," Sara said defensively. "This was the nicest one at the lot."

"It's not that," Laura said. "It's just … it looks … empty."

Sara smiled. "Well, we didn't have time to decorate it yet. And, we thought you'd want to help."

Laura looked at her tenderly, and touched her hair, brushing it back from her face. "It's been a long time since we've done that, baby. Too long."

Sara's smile widened. "Well, where are the decorations?"

* * *

It took them over an hour, but they were finally all pleased with the appearance of the tree. Laura went to get her camera, and Grissom pulled Sara against his side.

"I'll be right back," he whispered in her ear.

Sara nodded, assuming he, too, wanted a picture of the tree. He surprised her when he returned a moment later with a bubble-wrapped package.

"I thought we should have this for our tree this year, too," he said in answer to the question in her eyes.

Sara took the package, and removed the wrapping. She gasped and tears filled her eyes. She was holding the ornament he had bought for her last year to celebrate their first Christmas together in their house.

"Oh, Gil," she sighed.

"I know it's not like last year," he said. "I know we're not even living in the same city right now. But … _Thy self away, art present still with me; / For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,_ -"

"_And I am still with them, and they with thee,_" Sara said softly, her tears spilling over. "We're always together … in our hearts."

She eyed the tree for a moment, then chose a spot in the front to place their ornament. Grissom stepped up behind her, wrapping his arms around her from behind. Sara folded her hands over his and leaned against him, pillowing her head on his shoulder.

"Merry Christmas, Gil," she whispered.

He pressed a kiss against her temple. "Merry Christmas, Sara."


	20. Make a Change

A/N: I'm sorry for not updating last weekend. I was out of town, and didn't have this chapter ready to post before I left. I hope you enjoy it.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Make a Change_

On Christmas Eve morning, Grissom awoke to the feel of Sara's head on his shoulder – and a complete lack of feeling in his arm. He smiled, realizing that he had even missed the numbness that often accompanied sharing her bed. His mother's long-ago advice, given when he had been unsure of how serious he was about a college girlfriend, rang through his head.

_Don't think about what you love about her. Don't think about her cute habits or the sweet things she does for you. Think about her faults. Think about everything about her that irritates you. Think about what you _don't_ like about her. If you can live with all those things, then she's the girl for you._

Melanie had not been the girl for him. After considering her faults, he had known that he could never build a life with her. Neither had Rebecca, his girlfriend in grad school – although, _she_ had been the one to decide that _his_ faults were too much.

But, Sara was different. Yes, she had faults. Yes, she had irritating quirks and habits. But, he could live with them. Because, unlike with the other girls, he was able to see that her faults were part of what made Sara _Sara_. He loved her, faults and all.

Sara shifted as she woke up, burrowing her face into his shoulder for a moment. Grissom smiled and brushed her hair back. She looked up at him and returned his smile.

"Good morning," she whispered.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he teased.

She shook her head. "You're just still on grave time, that's all. You haven't joined us day-dwellers yet."

"I suppose you're right about that."

Sara rolled away from him and stretched out. She kept rolling to reach out to open a drawer on her nightstand.

"Merry Christmas Eve," she said as she rolled back toward him. She dropped several sheets of paper on his chest.

"What's this?" he asked.

Sara flushed slightly. "I know you like to go to Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. So, I looked up the closest Catholic churches, and googled directions to them. I thought …" She bit her lip, her cheeks becoming redder. "I thought that, if you'd like, we could go together."

"You're sure?"

She nodded. "Only if you'd like."

He smiled and touched her cheek. "I'd like."

Sara smiled back, reaching up to put her hand over his, holding it against her cheek. "Okay."

His smile widened. "Merry Christmas Eve, Sara."

* * *

Sara parked the car and turned off the ignition. She was about to unbuckle her seatbelt when Grissom's hand covered hers, stopping her. She looked up at him with questions in her eyes.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

Sara frowned. "What are you talking about? Of course, I want to." She smiled. "I didn't get all dressed up and drive here just to go home again."

"Yes, but …" Grissom trailed off. "The Catholic Mass has a lot of traditions," he said slowly. "A lot of … It's a worship experience."

"I know that," Sara said, frowning again.

"I just … I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. If you don't want to participate … or if you just want to leave … I'll understand."

Sara smiled and put her free hand over his. "Gil. You have made huge changes for me. You turned your entire way of life upside down just so that we could pursue a relationship … and then flipped it around again when I … came here. You've done so much to understand who I am, and to love me in spite of it. Doing this for you … coming to Mass with you … it just seems so small by comparison." She drew a deep breath. "I may not believe in God the same way you do, but I do respect your beliefs. That's what this is about: respecting your beliefs, being with you, and loving you for who you are."

He leaned in to kiss her. "I love you, too."

"I know."

Grissom's lips curved up in a mischievous smile. "Didn't you miss something?"

Sara frowned. "What?"

"Isn't part of this about scientific curiosity?"

She swatted his shoulder. "Get out of the car. We're going to be late."

* * *

Sara had to admit that Grissom had a point: she viewed much of the Mass with a curiosity and observation that bordered on the scientific. He guided her through the choreography of the service, telling her when to sit, stand and kneel with the rest of the congregation.

To say that Sara had a religious awakening while she experienced the Mass would be false. She didn't leave the church feeling a sudden belief in or assurance of the existence of a higher power. But, sitting next to Grissom, watching his face as he whispered the long-ago internalized responses to prayers she had never heard, she understood why he went to Midnight Mass each year. There was a certain beauty in the ancient prayers, a certain comfort she could see that he drew from the familiar rites and rituals.

As the congregation began to pray the Our Father, he slipped his hand into hers. Sara looked up at him, and met his eyes. As their eyes locked, she felt a wave of love for this man wash over her. She tightened her grip on his hand.

She had endured so much in the past few months, and had, at many times, felt that overcoming it was impossible. But, as Grissom's fingers tightened around hers, she knew that it wasn't. As long as she had him, and his love and support, she could surmount any obstacle that stood in her path.

* * *

An unfamiliar thrill of excitement shot through Sara as she opened her eyes the next morning. She was confused; why did she feel this way?

She turned in Grissom's arms to study his calm, sleeping face, and realized why she was so excited. _Christmas!_

She wanted to laugh at herself. Unable to remember experiencing holiday excitement as a child, she was almost unable to recognize it as an adult.

Feeling more childlike by the moment, she knew that she couldn't let Grissom sleep a moment longer. She ran her fingers over his cheeks and chin. Grissom hummed in his sleep, and his eyes slowly opened. She watched as they focused on her face. She grinned at him.

"Merry Christmas," she said.

Grissom smiled and pulled her tightly against him. "Merry Christmas, love."

Sara struggled against his arms. "I want to get up," she said. "I want to give you your present."

Grissom chuckled. "Who are you, and what did you do with my Sara?"

"I'm her inner six-year-old," Sara replied with a giggle. "Come on, Griss. Let's have Christmas."

"We can have Christmas right here, just like this."

"Griss …"

"Okay, okay." He released her, and rolled over to get out of bed. "You owe me at least an hour of sleep, though. And, at least an hour of quality snuggle time."

Sara grinned. "You've got it."

They climbed out of bed, pulled on robes, and made their way to the living room. The house was still quiet; Laura was obviously still asleep.

"She has to work tonight," Sara said. "She usually sleeps in on days like this."

"Makes sense," Grissom said with a nod.

"Do you want something to eat? Or, maybe some coffee or tea?"

"What are you having?" Grissom asked.

"I think I'll start with tea," Sara said. "Mom found this Christmas blend, and she wouldn't let me try it before Christmas."

Grissom chuckled. "I'll try it with you."

Smiling, Sara went to the kitchen to heat the water for their tea. When she returned to the living room with two steaming mugs, Grissom was sitting on the floor, staring at the tree. He had turned on its lights; they cast a cheery glow on the room.

"Here," Sara said, handing him a mug as she lowered herself down next to him.

He smiled. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

They sat in silence for a moment, sipping their tea and burning their tongues. Finally, Sara turned to face Grissom.

"Okay, my inner six-year-old is coming out again," she said. "Can we do presents?"

Grissom laughed. "If you'd like."

"Good." Sara put down her tea and stretched to grab the present she had placed under the tree the night before. She handed it to Grissom with a smile. "Merry Christmas."

Grinning, Grissom peeled the paper off his gift. His eyes lit up.

"A book of crosswords?"

"Open it," Sara said with a beaming smile.

Grissom opened the book and read the title of the first puzzle. "San Francisco, part one."

Sara nodded. "Read the clues."

"One down: The lecture hall where we met." He looked up from the book to meet Sara's eyes. "Did you …?"

"I found a website where you can make your own puzzles," she said. "All the puzzles in this book are based on places we've been together … and other random events in our lives."

Grissom leaned across to kiss her. "Thank you. This is … No one has ever done anything like this for me before."

She smiled happily.

"Here," Grissom said, reaching for another package under the tree. "Open your present."

Sara grinned and accepted the gift. The paper fell away to reveal a volume of Shakespeare's sonnets. Red ribbons hung from the book at various points.

"Open it," Grissom prompted, just as she had him.

Sara opened the book to find Grissom's bold handwriting across the front corner.

_Christmas, 2007_

_Sara,_

_When I was lecturing at Williams, I turned to a sonnet to express my love to you. The truth is, since the moment I first met you, you have made me see poetry come alive. While not every sonnet ever written makes me think of you, many of these do. The ones I find to be most appropriate are marked for your perusal._

_I love you more than I can say. I hope these sonnets make that even more real for you._

_All my love,_

_Gil_

Tears filled Sara's eyes as she read his words. Without speaking, she flipped to the first ribbon, which marked Sonnet 8.

_Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?  
Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy:  
Why lov'st thou that which thou receiv'st not gladly,  
Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy?  
If the true concord of well-tuned sounds,  
By unions married, do offend thine ear,  
They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds  
In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear.  
Mark how one string, sweet husband to another,  
Strikes each in each by mutual ordering;  
Resembling sire and child and happy mother,  
Who, all in one, one pleasing note do sing:  
Whose speechless song being many, seeming one,  
Sings this to thee: 'Thou single wilt prove none.'_

Grissom's writing was scrawled in its margin: _For years, I would read this and think of how I was missing so much by holding myself back from you. Since the day you agreed to begin a relationship with me, I read it and remember how much I love you, and how full you make my life._

Tears spilled down Sara's face as she looked up. The book dropped into her lap as she leaned forward to kiss Grissom. Her hands went into his hair, holding him close to deepen the kiss.

"I love you," she whispered, pulling back slightly. "I love you so much."

Grissom brushed her hair back from her face, loving the feel of it sliding through his fingers. "I love you, too."

* * *

The day after Christmas, Sara began to notice changes in Grissom. He wasn't as cheery as he had been, or as eager to chat. He preferred to sit in silence with her, or to hold her tightly to him.

While Sara had no problem with either of those activities – she couldn't count the number of times they had sat together on the couch, reading or watching a movie in silence – she was a bit concerned about Grissom's sudden change in mood. She observed him for two days, trying to pinpoint the source of the weight he was carrying on his shoulders.

Finally, she gave up. She waited until her mother had left for work, then joined him in the living room. He was sitting on the couch, staring at the tree.

Sara looked at him and sighed. "Are you going to tell me?"

He looked up at her and frowned. "Tell you what?"

"What's bothering you." She sat down on her favorite chair and tucked her feet up under her. "You've been very withdrawn the past few days. It's obvious you're carrying a very heavy weight on your shoulders. Will you tell me what it is?"

Grissom moved to sit down across from her. "Warrick," he said simply.

Sara frowned. "Warrick?"

"He's … spinning out of control. And, I don't know how to help him." The look in his eyes told her how much that confession cost him. "I suspended him for two weeks right before I left to come here."

"Griss!"

"It had to happen." He ran his hands over his face. "It's a long story … there are so many details … I don't know how to even begin to tell you."

"Why not start at the beginning?"

He sighed. "Nicky came to me a few weeks ago and said he was worried about Warrick taking pills."

"Before I left Vegas, he told me he was taking something to help him sleep," Sara said. "I didn't think much of it – I figured he was stressed about his divorce."

"We all did. It wasn't until Nick caught him with uppers that we started to worry. Then, there was this case … You know I can't tell you much, but I can say that Warrick became obsessed with taking down a mob boss."

Sara's eyes widened in surprise.

"It's … it's not good, Sara. I don't want to lose him, but I feel like there will come a point when it will be out of my control."

"Don't think like that," Sara said, reaching across to grab his hand. "Warrick's smart, Griss. He knows his limitations. And, he knows Vegas. He knows how that city can suck you in and turn you into someone you're not. He'll see that that's what it's doing to him, and pull himself back. He did it before when he had the gambling issues. He'll do it again now."

"I hope you're right."

"I am," she said confidently. "Warrick loves his job more than any of us. It means more to him than to any of us. This suspension – it'll be like a wake-up call for him. He'll come back at the end of it back to the Warrick he's always been."

Grissom exhaled and squeezed her hand. "That's what I want. More than anything."

* * *

Grissom and Sara sat on the couch with an open bottle of champagne and two glasses on the coffee table in front of them. Sara turned from the coverage on the television to give Grissom a playful smile.

"So, what's your New Year's resolution?"

Grissom looked thoughtful. "I don't have one yet."

"Well, you only have about thirty minutes left," Sara said, glancing at the countdown on the corner of the screen. "We need to make one for you."

"Okay," Grissom said, deciding to play along. "What do you think it should be?"

"Give up meat," Sara said at once.

Grissom laughed. "Honey, I couldn't do it when you cooked me vegetarian meals for an entire week. There's no way it's going to happen."

"Oh, fine. Be difficult."

He laughed again. "That's the best you can do?"

Sara looked thoughtful. "Hmmm … I think you should resolve to work less doubles."

He smiled sadly. "I'm sure Hank would appreciate that."

Sara's face fell as she recognized the unspoken meaning. Hank was the only one at home to care if he left work at the end of his shift or not.

"Hey," Grissom said, realizing what she was thinking. He put his fingers under her chin to tip her face up to meet his eyes. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," Sara said with a sigh. "I'm sorry that I've put us into this situation."

Grissom shook his head. "It's not your fault, Sara. You can't blame yourself for what Natalie did to you."

She nodded, feeling the tears threaten again. She exhaled slowly, trying to bring herself under control.

"What's your New Year's resolution?" Grissom asked. "Maybe you can inspire me."

"I think … it's time for me to make a change."

"That's what resolutions are all about," Grissom agreed. "What change are you going to make?"

"I think," Sara said slowly, "that it's time for me to leave my mom."

Grissom's heart leapt. Hope rushed through him. Was she saying …?

"She's been wonderful," Sara said. "Really, truly wonderful. Without her, I never would have made it through the past month and a half. But, after everything we've done and discussed since I've been here … I think there _is_ more healing for me to do, but this isn't the place for me to do it."

Grissom was practically holding his breath. Excitement shot through him so fast it made him feel jumpy. "Are you saying -?" he began.

"I think I need to go visit my father's family," Sara said.

Grissom exhaled forcefully as disappointment flooded through him. He swallowed with some difficultly. "Your father's family?" he repeated.

"Yeah," Sara said. "Most of them still live in Pittsburgh, so I want to go there. I looked up flights last night; they aren't too outrageous. And, there are a lot of hotels in the city, so I'm sure I can find a decent rate."

"Oh," Grissom said. He swallowed again. "How long will you be there?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. "I guess it depends on a lot of things. Sort of like coming here did."

"Right," Grissom agreed, his voice strangled. _California was far enough … but, _Pennsylvania_? She may as well be in Boston._

Sara's eyes caught and held his. It wasn't often that Grissom's soul was bare in his eyes, but this was one of those times. As she looked into their blue depths, she felt she was watching as his heart broke.

"Gil," she nearly whispered. She reached out to touch his face, running her fingers over his cheek. "I'm not leaving you."

Grissom swallowed and held her eyes.

"I'm not," she said again. "I might be a little farther away for a little while, but that doesn't change the way I feel about you."

Grissom exhaled. Later, he would blame his selfish words on the exhaustion of following her "day-dweller" schedule for a week and the dulling affects of the champagne. But, for the moment, he needed to get the words out.

"Sara … I want you to come _home_," he confessed. He cupped her face with his hands, and looked deeply into her eyes. "I miss you so much that it hurts."

Tears filled her eyes. "I know," she whispered. "I know."

"I …" His voice cracked. "I don't know how to go on without you."

"You don't have to," Sara said. "You've got me. No matter where I am, you've got me. I'm yours, Gil. Forever." She tipped her head forward until her forehead rested against his. "We'll talk on the phone, and email, and visit, and … we'll make it work. I know we can do it."

He closed his eyes and nodded. "We'll make it work. We _have_ to make it work." He opened his eyes and pulled back to look at her. His eyes were over-bright. "You are my heart, Sara. Without you, I don't know who I am anymore."

Tears filled Sara's eyes. "Right now, you are the only part of me that I _do_ know. That's why I need to do this, Gil. I need to remember who I am."

Grissom pulled her to him in a nearly crushing embrace. He held her tightly as the minutes passed and the midnight arrived. He held her tightly as she kissed him happy New Year. He held her tightly as they watched the revelry across the country.

He had to hold her tightly. He was afraid to let her go.


	21. Talking It Out

A/N: This one is a little on the short side. I hope you like it.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Talking It Out_

Grissom's flight to Las Vegas left on New Year's Day. Still reeling from the idea that Sara was departing California and going even farther away from him, he was very reluctant to leave her. He held her hand tightly as they stood outside the security gates together, waiting until the last possible moment to say their goodbyes.

"I'm going to miss you," she said, breaking the silence that had fallen.

"I'll miss you, too," he replied.

Without another word, he dropped his hold on his carry-on luggage and pulled her into his arms. Sara blinked back tears as she clung to him.

"I love you," he said softly. "I love you so very much."

Sara pulled back far enough to look into his eyes, then leaned up to kiss him. Grissom was the one to break the kiss after several long moments; he pressed his lips to her forehead.

"You'll keep in touch, right?" he asked.

Sara nodded. "Of course."

He kissed her lips once more. "I have to go."

"I know."

"I love you."

She blinked rapidly again. "I love you, too."

Grissom smiled and touched her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, covering his hand with hers.

"Gil …"

"Yes?"

She opened her eyes and looked into his. "I'm sorry it has to be this way."

Grissom shook his head. "You have nothing to be sorry for. We'll make it work."

She nodded, and leaned up for one last kiss. "Go, before you miss your plane."

He smiled. "Take care."

"You, too. Be safe."

With one last smile, Grissom released her, picked up his things, and entered the security checkpoint. Sara watched as he gave his license and ticket to the agent, then as he removed his shoes and jacket, and made his way through the metal detectors. Once he was on the other side, she lost sight of him.

Only then did she allow her tears to fall.

* * *

As promised, Catherine was waiting for Grissom in baggage claim at McCarran. She grinned when she saw him walking toward her.

"Welcome home!"

"Thanks," he said.

"Did you have a nice trip?" Catherine asked, leading him out to the car.

"I did."

"How's Sara?"

"Better," he replied, feeling that it was a very honest answer, but knowing that it would never be enough to satisfy Catherine's curiosity.

Catherine looked at him closely, but decided not to push too hard, too fast. "Well, you've moved up a few places on my hit list since you've been gone, just so you know."

"Why might that be?"

"Lindsey is absolutely in love with Hank, and has decided that we need a dog."

Grissom chuckled. "You should get her one."

Catherine rolled her eyes. "That's just what we need. Someone else for me to mother."

"Lindsey is a big girl now, Cath. She can be in charge of the dog."

She sighed. "I should have known that agreeing to take your dog for the week was a mistake. She's loved him since you got him."

"And, now that she's lived with him …"

"It's all over," Catherine said. "I liked it better when Hank was just this dog that she'd go visit at your place."

"Technically, he still is. You can't have my dog. You have to get your own."

Catherine smiled as they arrived at her car. "Well, now you're just being selfish."

Grissom smiled and shook his head. "What have I missed at the lab?"

Catherine's stories of the cases they had worked in his absence kept them occupied as she drove to Grissom's house. She had not yet finished speaking when they arrived.

"Do you want to come in?" Grissom offered.

"Sure," Catherine said.

He led her inside; they sat down in his living room. Catherine looked around, trying to be inconspicuous as she searched for signs of Sara in the house. She wondered if Grissom would have kept her things, or if she had taken them with her, or if he would have pictures of the two of them together, or –

"Would you like a drink?" Grissom asked.

"Sure," Catherine said smoothly.

"I have no idea what's here," Grissom said with a slightly apologetic note to his voice.

"Just water is fine," Catherine replied. "I'm not picky."

"Water it is."

Grissom disappeared down the steps to the kitchen, and reappeared a moment later with two glasses. "Have you spoken to Warrick?" he asked as he sat down with her again.

Catherine shook her head. "I wanted to keep my distance, to be honest. I thought that if I called him, it could look like I don't stand behind your decision to suspend him."

Grissom's eyebrows shot up. "You're right, of course."

"Nick's talked to him," she said. "He says he sounds better. Contrite. He wants to do the right thing, Gil."

"He always did," Grissom said. "I've never doubted that. It's just his methods that I've questioned recently."

"Yeah," Catherine agreed. She sighed. "So, are you going to tell me about your trip, or do I have to pull it out of you?"

"It was nice."

"Grissom …"

He sighed. "Sara's doing better," he said slowly.

"Yes, you said that. I guess I was hoping for a little more."

"Being with her mother has helped her," he said, still carefully choosing his words. "You can see it just by looking at her. Her eyes don't have the same dead look they did before … before she left."

"This is good," Catherine said, nodding encouragingly. "Did she say anything about when she'll be home?"

"No." Grissom practically had to force the word out. It seemed so impossible, but, once he had spoken that first word aloud, the rest seemed to tumble out of him. "She wants to go to Pittsburgh to visit her father's family. She's … She says she's not ready to come home." He shook his head. "She didn't say it, but, Cath, I'm terrified that she doesn't see Vegas as _home_ anymore."

"But, she didn't say that?"

"No."

"Then, don't think it. Sara doesn't say things she doesn't mean, Gil. And, where you're concerned, she's always been very open. I don't think she would think that or that she would make that kind of decision and not tell you."

"I guess you're right," Grissom said slowly.

"And, even though it's not exactly next door, I think it's healthy for her to go to Pittsburgh."

Grissom raised an eyebrow.

"She's rediscovering herself," Catherine said gently. "She's seen her mom. Now, it's time to see her dad."

"His family," Grissom corrected. "Her father … died when she was younger."

"His family, then," Catherine said. "This is probably more important to her than seeing her mom. She can reconnect with her father this way."

Grissom nodded.

"Gil," Catherine said, leaning forward, "if she wanted to end it with you, you'd know. Believe me. Sara would make that very clear."

"You're right," Grissom said with a sudden feeling of relief. "She would."

Catherine smiled and patted his knee. "Don't worry about the things you can't control, okay? Just … support her and love her. It'll all work out in the end. You'll see."

Grissom nodded and smiled at her. "Thanks, Cath."

"You're welcome." She stood up. "Now, I'm going to go home, wrestle you dog away from Lindsey, and bring him back here for you."

"Don't do all that," Grissom said. "I'll come to pick him up."

"You're sure? You're not too tired to drive?"

"I'll be fine."

"Okay," Catherine agreed. "I'm sure Lindsey will be excited to see you." She chuckled. "Or, maybe not. I doubt she'll want you to take Hank away from her."

Grissom smiled. "Get her a dog, Catherine. Please."

* * *

Sara sat in the living room with her laptop balanced on her knees. Her fingers hesitated only a moment before clicking the "reserve" button. She exhaled as her transaction was completed.

"Hi, princess," Laura said as she came in.

"Hi, Mom," Sara replied. "How was work?"

"Good." Laura joined her in the living room, sitting in the armchair across from Sara's. "One of our little girls who has been with us for over a month was released today."

"Oh, that is a good day," Sara said, smiling at her.

"How was your day?" Laura smiled slightly. "It seems so quiet with Gil gone."

"I know," Sara said quietly. She cleared her throat. "Um, Mom … I want to talk to you about something."

"Okay," Laura said slowly.

"I … I'm planning a trip."

"With Gil?" Laura asked. She smiled. "Where are you going?"

"No, Mom, not with Gil," Sara said. "I … I'm going to go to Pittsburgh, to visit Dad's family."

Laura's eyes opened wide. "To Pittsburgh?"

"Yes."

"Alone?"

"Yes."

"Sweetie, couldn't Gil get more time off? If you want, I'll take my vacation time and go with you. I've got three weeks coming, and since the year just started, I haven't taken any of it yet."

"No, Mom, don't do that," Sara said. "I … Look, it's not that Grissom doesn't have the vacation time. The way it accumulates with CSI, he's probably got enough to take off the next three years. I know he'd come with me in a heartbeat. He offered to come here with me when I first left. It's just … I really need to do this on my own. I guess I need to heal myself, you know?"

"And, this – going to Pittsburgh – will be healing for you?"

"Yes." Sara looked down then up again. "We've spent weeks rehashing everything that happened to us. You've told me secrets that you've kept since you married Dad. I guess … I just want to go back there, and to see my grandparents and my aunts and uncles through new eyes. I want to see them as the people who made Dad what he was, rather than just as the people who loved me because I was his daughter."

"Sara, that's the same thing," Laura said. "The family who made him the man he was is the same family who loves you because you are a part of it."

"On some level, I know that," Sara said. "But, on another … I just really need to see them again."

"Okay," Laura said. "If this is what you need to do, then I think you should do it."

Sara's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"Really."

"Just like that?"

Laura smiled. "Honey, I am the last person to give advice about what you should do before a catastrophic break. But, I can certainly tell you that it'll be far easier if you do what you need to do before you crumble the way that I did. _An ounce of prevention_, you know."

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "I wish I had thought of that before I fell apart the way I did."

"You may have cracked, but you didn't break," Laura said. "And, as the one who's been watching the cracks heal for over a month now, I think you'll come together again just fine."

"I hope so, Mom," Sara said. "I really, really hope so.

* * *

With her mother and Grissom supporting her plan as best they could, Sara had one last person left to talk to about it. She placed the call when she got up the next morning.

"Hey, Sara," came Mary's cheerful greeting. "How's the California sunshine treating you?"

"I'm going to leave it," Sara said without preamble.

"What?" Mary asked, obviously stunned. "Are you going back to the Nevada sunshine?"

"No," Sara said. "I'm going for the Pennsylvania snow instead."

"Taking up skiing?"

"No. I'm going to Pittsburgh."

"Pittsburgh?" Mary asked. "What on earth is in Pittsburgh?"

"Three rivers, a bunch of universities, Mr. Rogers' neighborhood, and, more importantly, my family. I'm going to visit them."

"Oh," Mary said. "Well, that's nice, I guess. When are you leaving?"

"In two weeks."

"Sounds like fun."

"I suppose." She smiled. "Mary … it's going to be really cold there."

Mary laughed. "You want really cold? Try Boston." She paused. "Sara – I mean it. Try Boston."

"What are you talking about? I already have my tickets to Pittsburgh."

"Did you book it one way or two?"

"One. I'm not sure how long I want to stay."

"Great! Once you've had enough family time, come visit us. I'd love to see you."

Sara drew a deep breath. Was she ready to spend time with Mary? She couldn't bring herself to go to Vegas to visit Grissom and her friends there. Were Mary and Tom any different?

But … Boston wasn't Vegas. She didn't have any horrible memories of Boston. In fact, the only memories that came to mind were of happy times during college.

"Sara? Are you still there?"

"I'm here."

"And?"

"I'll … think about it."

"I guess I'll take what I can get."

Sara smiled. "Like you have a choice."

"I'll just wait impatiently for your answer, then."

"You'll have it as soon as I do."

Sara already had a feeling that Mary was going to like what she had to say.


	22. Genetics

A/N: And so begins the next step in Sara's journey of self-discovery! This chapter does a lot to set up the next, so you'll have to stay tuned once you get to the end. I hope you enjoy it!

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episode 811, "Bull." I also claim no ownership of iPod, _Home Alone_, Pittsburgh International Airport, Heinz, PBR, or anything else familiar.

* * *

_Genetics_

"You're sure about this?"

Sara took her boarding pass from the kiosk in the airport and nodded. "I'm sure."

"I don't know, Sara …"

"Mom, I need to do this." Sara turned to look at her fully. "They're my family, too."

"I know that, sweetie. I just … I hate to see you go all that way alone."

Sara shook her head and gave her suitcase over to the attendant to check. "You let me go all the way to Boston for college."

"That was different."

"How so?" Her suitcase gone, Sara and Laura stepped away from the ticketing counter and began walking toward security.

Laura bit her lip. "I knew you'd have someone watching out for you there. The RAs … advisors … Mary. But now …"

"I'm a big girl, Mom. I can watch out for myself."

"When you went to Boston for school, Sara, I always knew you'd be back."

"Mom! I'm just going for a visit." Sara shook her head. "Besides, it's not like I'm normally down the street. I live in Vegas."

"I know, sweetie, I know." To her chagrin, tears welled up in Laura's eyes. "I just hate to see you go through this alone."

"I'll be fine," Sara promised. "And, I'll be back. It's just for a little while. I just … I need to see them, Mom. I need to see Dad through their eyes. I need to see _us_ through their eyes."

"All right," Laura said at last. "You'll call me when you get there, won't you?"

"Of course."

"And … you'll keep in touch with Grissom, won't you? I'm sure he's as worried about you as I am."

Sara smiled. "I'm sure he is. Yes, I'll call him."

"Good."

They reached the security check point and Laura gave Sara a shaky smile before enveloping her in a warm hug.

"I'm going to miss you, little girl."

"I'll miss you, too, Mom," Sara replied, hugging her tightly.

Laura released her and looked into her eyes. She could read the doubts that hadn't been there only a moment before. "You're ready for this, Sara."

"Two minutes ago you were asking me if I was sure about going! Now, you're the one telling me that I'm ready to go?"

"For as much as you just argued …"

Sara looked away, then back again. "I'm scared, Mom. I'm really, really scared."

Laura put her hands on Sara's shoulders. "You can do this, Sara. You _need_ to do this. You were right about that."

Sara nodded. "You're right."

"And, if you need anything, I'm only a phone call away."

Sara nodded again.

Laura squeezed her shoulders. "Take care of yourself, Sara."

"I will."

"Now, go before you miss your plane."

Sara smiled. "Mom … thanks. For everything."

"Thank you, too, sweetie. For trusting me."

Unable to resist the urge, Sara gave her mother one last hug, then joined the line to go through security. Laura waited until she couldn't see her anymore, then, wiping a few last tears from her eyes, turned to go home.

* * *

The flight was, in a word, long. Sara had forgotten how much she hated flying across the country. Granted, she would far rather fly than drive thousands of miles, but that didn't make her any less impatient while she was on the plane.

She passed the time with her iPod and the in-flight movie, but neither could hold her attention for long. She kept thinking of her family – both the ones she had left and the ones she was about to see.

The hardest thing for her to reconcile was the idea that her grandfather had been abusive. She kept mentally going back to her last trip to Pittsburgh. It had been only a few weeks before her father's death. He had taken her to visit his parents during her fall break. Her grandfather had surprised them with Penguins tickets.

"_I'll bet those were easy to come by," Malcolm teased. "They've been losing for years now."_

"_I know," Frank replied. "You know what that means, right? Tickets are cheap." He looked at Sara and grinned. "How about it, girlie? You want to go see a home opener with us? How often do you get to do that?"_

"_Are they going to lose?" Sara asked a bit nervously. She had seen her father after watching the Pens lose – it was never pleasant._

"_Not today they're not! We've got that new kid – Mario something or other. He's French Canadian; I can never pronounce those names."_

"_We saw in the paper that they drafted him, Sara, remember?" Malcolm said._

_Sara nodded, remembering the way her father had picked her up and spun her around when they had heard the news._

"_So, are you in or out, Sara? I got these tickets for you and your daddy to come with me, but I can get one of your cousins –"_

"_No!" Sara said quickly. "Let's go!"_

Watching Mario Lemieux score his first NHL goal with his first NHL shot during his first NHL shift … Sara still hadn't forgotten the goose bumps that had started in her spine, run up into her scalp and down her arms, or the sheer, childlike excitement of her father and her grandfather. It was her favorite memory of both of them.

She wanted to remember her grandfather like that – not as a monster who beat his wife and his children. Dread filled her. _Maybe this was a mistake …_

It was too late now. She couldn't go back. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back against the seat and tried to lose herself in her newest downloaded music.

* * *

As the plane touched down in Pittsburgh, Sara took a deep breath and slowly released it. For some reason, a line from _Home Alone_ ran through her head: _This is it. Don't get scared now._

The memory of watching the Christmas movie marathon with Grissom was enough to make her smile and shake off the worst of her nerves. She stood as the passengers in the row in front of her stepped into the aisle, and reached up to get her carry-on luggage.

If asked to do so later, Sara would never be able to describe the Pittsburgh International Airport. It was all she could do to follow the signs first to baggage claim, where she collected her suitcase, then to ground transportation, where she joined the line of people waiting for taxis.

When it was her turn, the cabbie jumped out to help her. He was older – at least five or ten years older than Grissom – and looked like he had spent his life doing manual labor. He grinned at her in a friendly way as he loaded her luggage into his trunk.

"Hello," he said. "Welcome to Pittsburgh."

"Thanks," Sara replied.

"Coming home or starting a trip?" he asked.

_Both. Neither_. "I'm visiting some family," Sara finally said.

"Oh, that's great," he said. "I'm sure they'll be glad to see you."

She smiled slightly as they both climbed into the cab. "I hope so."

"Where to, then?"

Sara gave the name and address of her hotel. "It's on the Southside?" she added, her voice rising in a question.

"Yup, I know it," the man replied. "That where your family lives? The Southside?"

"Yes."

"That's a nice area," he said. "All that new development … you seen the Works yet?"

"No," Sara said. She smiled. "Honestly, I haven't been here since I was about thirteen."

"Well, I won't make any guesses about how long ago that was … but, a lot has changed even in the past few years."

"I'm sure," Sara said, thinking of everything that had happened in her own life in the past few years.

"Still the same city at heart, though. You'll see. Hey, you been keeping up with the Pens at all? I think this is our year. Sid's amazing!"

Sara's face lit up. Hockey, as she had reminded herself on the plane, was the one thing she connected with her childhood visits to Pittsburgh. "The last time I was here, Mario Lemieux had just started playing for the Pens."

"Ah, Mario," the man said with affection. "He's a hero around here. Saved hockey for this city so many times!"

They kept up a steady conversation about hockey as they approached a tunnel. As they neared the other side, the cabbie interrupted his own sentence.

"Look, now – right through the windshield. You've gotta see this."

Sara obligingly leaned forward as they exited the tunnel … and gasped. The view of the city appearing seemingly out of nowhere took her breath away. The cabbie grinned.

"Thought you'd like that. They say we're the only city that has an entrance."

"Well, it's a nice one," Sara said, still staring out the windshield in awe as they crossed a bridge into the city.

Still smiling at her reaction, her cabbie turned into a tour guide, pointing out landmarks and sights of interest along the way. Sara found herself pleasantly surprised by the entire ride – she had never seen a cab driver so eager to show off his city. His cheerful conversation had been enough to distract her from the purpose of her visit; for a brief time, she could pretend that she was just another tourist.

They arrived at the hotel, and the cabbie helped her with her bags. She paid the fare and gave him a generous tip.

"Thank you," she said, knowing he'd never know how much he had helped her to make it through this first, difficult step in her journey.

"It was my pleasure," he replied. "You enjoy your stay." Reaching into his pocket, he gave her his card. "And, if you need a ride somewhere, give me a call."

"Thanks," Sara said, sliding the card into her own pocket. "I appreciate that."

With one last smile, the cabbie climbed back into his car and pulled away. As she watched him go, Sara felt like the last bit of comfort and calm went with him. Taking a steadying breath, she grabbed her luggage and went into the hotel.

Fifteen minutes later, she was checked in and alone in her room. She surveyed the room for a moment, shuddering as she thought of what she would see under ALS.

"Don't even think about it," she whispered.

She dug through her purse for a moment until she found her phone. She called her mother, but was directed to her voicemail. She left her a message to let her know she had made it safely to her destination, then closed her phone. She held it in her hand for a moment, mentally debating. Finally, she opened it again and pressed the buttons for her second speed dial. This time, it only rang twice before her call was answered.

"Grissom."

"Hi," she said.

"Sara," he said warmly. "Hello."

Sara grinned at the sound of his voice. "I'm in Pittsburgh," she said. "I made it safely."

"Good. Does your mother know?"

"I left her a voicemail."

"Good."

"It's nice here," Sara said. "The people I've met have been very friendly."

"Have you eaten anything yet?"

"When did you become my mother?"

Grissom chuckled. "I was going to ask about the food. Heinz Ketchup is from Pittsburgh, you know. And, some restaurant they have is always on the Food Network …"

"I'll look into it," Sara promised.

Grissom sighed. "Sara, I'm sorry, but Brass is on the other line. Can I call you later?"

"Yeah," she said. "Go work."

"Thanks. I love you."

"I love you, too."

She heard a click as Grissom switched lines. She closed her phone and held it against her lips for a moment.

She missed him, to be sure. But, hearing his voice, knowing that he was interested in what she was doing …

They could make this work. She was sure of it.

* * *

Grissom left his office at Brass's request, and soon found himself stepping into an arena where a bull was being chased into confinement, and away from a dead man.

"Who found him?" Grissom asked as they walked toward the body.

"Security," Brass replied. "We had a tough time finding guys to wrangle the bull. Cowboys like to party when they come to Vegas."

They were almost immediately greeted by the PBR president, who gave them a brief history of the rider who had died. His opinion was that the man had gone back to the arena after hours for another ride and been thrown from the bull. Grissom, who noted that he wasn't wearing a glove, wasn't convinced.

"Okay," Brass said as the other men left them alone. "David's on the way."

Grissom nodded. "I'll start documenting. Would you call Catherine in for me, please?"

Brass raised an eyebrow. "Catherine? Don't you want Nick on this case?"

Grissom smiled. "I'm sure Nick will be helpful, but Catherine has some … _intimate_ experience that I'm sure will also be beneficial."

Brass chuckled. "First a mascot, now a bull rider? Is there anyone she _hasn't_ dated?"

"Me," Grissom replied.

Brass laughed, and took out his phone to call Catherine.

Grissom looked down at the body and sighed. He wanted to solve his newest mystery. He wanted to find justice for the man who had, judging by the nasty bruise on his face, been a fighter in every sense of the word.

But …

It was very difficult to keep focus on the case when his heart was over two thousand miles away.

* * *

Having been assured by the man at the hotel's front desk that her grandparents' house was less than a mile away, Sara opted to walk rather than to call her friendly cab driver for a ride. It seemed silly to wait for a cab to go such a short distance. She also wanted to see the area, which long experience had taught her was always best accomplished on foot.

As she walked, she wondered what "new development" the cabbie had meant when he had described the Southside to her. Most of what she was seeing was older – the houses were well-maintained, and the neighborhood had a very homey feel to it, but it was certainly not something she would think of as "new."

She shook her head. Vegas had clouded her judgment. Hadn't Warrick told her more than once that in Vegas, history was bulldozed? Here, history was alive and well – _her_ history was alive and well. She should be glad that it was still standing. It would make her journey so much easier – and so much more fruitful.

Sara was so busy looking around that she almost passed her destination. She stopped abruptly, and stared at the house.

Her breath caught in her throat. _It's exactly as I remember_.

It seemed so unlikely. How could the house have been maintained to the point that over two decades ceased to exist as she looked at it?

She took a moment to compose herself, then walked up to her grandparents' front door. She rang the bell, and waited a moment as the sound of footsteps came closer and closer.

A petite, older woman opened the door, looking at her through the still-closed screen door. She looked at Sara quizzically.

"May I help you?"

"Grandma," Sara nearly whispered, her voice strangled. There was no mistaking her identity. She looked older, of course, but she was still the same woman had taught Sara to make gingerbread during her childhood visits.

She frowned. "Excuse me?"

Sara cleared her throat. "I'm Sara … Sara Si-"

Before she could even finish her own last name, the screen door was thrown open, and Sara was grabbed into an embrace so tight she could hardly believe it came from this tiny, elderly woman.

"Oh, my Sara," she whispered, unexpected tears streaming down her cheeks. "You've come home."

The overwhelmingly warm welcome was too much. Sara burst into tears, clinging to her grandmother as she cried.


	23. Family

A/N: Wow, that was quite a hiatus I took there! I'm sorry about that. Part of it was the insane busyness of this time of year. As one of my friends puts it, I'm a tough person to find from Easter to the end of the school year (which is way late this year…thanks, February). The other reason it's so late was that this chapter was a tough one for me to get together. I had some serious writer's block! But, I think I'm pretty much healed on that front.

So, a huge thank you for your patience, and for sticking with this story. I hope you enjoy this update, and that it was worth the (ridiculously long) wait.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and poetry are taken from episode 811, "Bull."

* * *

_Family_

"Come in, come in," Margaret Sidle said, pulling Sara into her house. She paused to look at her again. "I can't believe you're here," she said quietly.

Sara smiled. "I'm here."

Margaret touched her cheek, smiling at her. "I've missed you."

Sara returned the smile.

"Come on," Margaret said, taking her hand to pull her into the kitchen. "Are you hungry? You look like you haven't had a decent meal in weeks. What did you do, walk here from …" She frowned. "I'm a terrible grandmother. I don't even know where you're living now. Are you still in California?"

"I was there until this morning for a visit with my mother," Sara replied. "But, on a regular basis, I live in Las Vegas."

"Las Vegas! My goodness, Sara!"

"I know, I know. It's a far cry from the bed and breakfast, right?"

Margaret shook her head. "Do you like it there?"

Sara gave a noncommittal shrug as she sat down in the chair her grandmother indicated. "I did."

Margaret looked at her sharply. "What aren't you telling me, Sara?"

_Quite a bit_. "Tell me about you," she said instead. "What have I missed in the last twenty years?"

Margaret gave her a look that said quite plainly that she wasn't done probing for information. "Well, your grandfather died about five years ago."

Sara's eyes widened in shock. _How is that even possible?_ "Oh, Grandma … I didn't know."

"I know. We wanted to tell you, but we didn't know how to reach you."

"I'm sorry, Grandma," Sara said quietly. "I'm sorry about Grandpa, and I'm sorry I've been out of touch."

Margaret waved her hand as if to wave off the past. "You had a rough go of it, Sara. After everything that happened, I didn't really expect to hear from you."

Sara shook her head slightly. "What?"

"After your mother … Well. I assumed she would tell you all sorts of terrible things about your father and our family. And, of course, you'd believe her. You were just a little girl."

Sara's head began to spin as her world tilted yet again. "You mean … what Mom said …"

Margaret shook her head, stopping Sara's flow of words. "Not now. I want us to concentrate on the good right now. I want us to get to know one another again before we get into all that."

Sara nodded slowly, taking a deep breath in an effort to calm her racing heart.

"Now, then," Margaret said, smiling at her again. "First, we are going to get you something to eat. Then, I am going to call the rest of the family. They'll all be so excited to see you."

"I don't know about that," Sara said. "I'm not sure they'd remember me."

"Sara, you are Malcolm's only daughter," Margaret said, her voice choking slightly. "Of course, they remember you."

Sara smiled. "I hope you're right."

Margaret waved her hand dismissively. "Of course I'm right. Now, what would you like to eat?"

"Oh, Grandma, I don't want you to go to any trouble …"

"It's no trouble," Margaret said quickly. "Let me see … I seem to remember that you always liked pierogies when you came here as a little girl. Would you like some?"

"Do you have any without meat?" Sara asked, resigning herself to the fact that she was going to have to eat something in this woman's kitchen.

Margaret looked at her as though she had lost her mind. "Sara. They're filled with potatoes."

"Oh, that's right," Sara said, suddenly remembering the pierogies her grandmother had made for her in the past. "Grandma, really, that's too much trouble. You don't need –"

"Sweetheart, that's why I have a freezer," Margaret interrupted, pulling a box of Mrs. T's Pierogies from the freezer. "They'll be ready in a few minutes."

Sara smiled and relaxed back in her chair. "All right."

"What can I get you to drink?" Margaret asked as she opened the box. "Water? Juice? Tea? Pop?"

Sara smiled at the funny word for soda. "Water is fine."

Margaret put Sara's pierogies in the oven to heat, poured them each a glass of water, and sat down across from her at the table. She smiled at her.

"So, tell me what you do in Las Vegas."

"I'm a crime scene investigator." Sara smiled, but Margaret noted that the smile didn't reach her eyes.

"You work with the police, then?" she asked, rather than commenting on her granddaughter's obvious lack of happiness in her job.

Sara nodded. "Yes, but I deal more with the science end of it."

"You did go to school for science, then? I remember that it was your favorite subject when you were little."

Sara smiled again, amazed at her grandmother's memory. "Yes."

"Where did you go? We have a lot of colleges here, you know. You could have stayed with your grandmother while you got your degree."

Sara smiled slightly. "I went to Harvard for undergrad, Grandma. And, Berkley for grad school."

"Gracious! Sara! My little granddaughter, a graduate of Harvard?"

Sara smiled, blushing. It had been a long time since anyone had gotten so excited about her school choices.

"Oh, that's wonderful," Margaret continued. "The people you must have met!"

Sara smiled again. "It was a great experience."

"I'm sure." Margaret got up to get Sara's pierogies from the oven. "What did you study?"

"Physics."

"Gram? Are you home?"

Sara nearly jumped in her chair at the sound of a voice from the front hall.

"I'm in the kitchen!" Margaret called. She turned to Sara with a grin. "There's one of your cousins now."

A tall man with blond hair and eyes the exact shade of brown as Sara's came into the room. "Hi, Gram," he said, kissing her cheek. His eyes widened as they fell on Sara. "Oh, hello. I'm sorry to be so rude."

"It's not rude when it's family," Margaret said, squeezing his arm and pulling him closer to the table and Sara. "Dean, this is Sara. She's Uncle Malcolm's little girl. I know you played with her when she was here … oh, my. When was it, Sara?"

"About twenty years ago," Sara said, standing and offering her hand to her cousin. "Hi, Dean."

He ignored the hand she held out and pulled her into a hug. "We're family," he said. "We don't shake hands."

Sara smiled and returned the hug, amazed at the reception from the man she wouldn't have been able to recognize on the street. She did have vague memories of the blond boy following her around during her last visit to Pittsburgh … Dean was five years her junior, and, to a thirteen-year-old girl, annoying.

"Your sister is Maggie, right?" she asked.

Dean nodded. "That's right."

Sara smiled. "She's the same age as me. I remember hanging out with her when I was here before."

"Oh, right!" Dean exclaimed, laughing. "I followed the two of you around like a little puppy dog for an entire week. I was in my 'Maggie's shadow' phase at that point."

Margaret smiled. "Dean, sit down and have some pierogies with Sara."

"If you insist," Dean replied, taking the seat across from Sara at the table.

"Dean comes over every day to help around the house," Margaret explained to Sara.

Sara smiled at him, feeling a new respect for this almost-forgotten cousin. Dean shrugged.

"Grandma wants to keep this big house all by herself," he said. "It's too much for one person to take care of it."

"Of course," Sara murmured, knowing that he meant it was too much for their grandmother to take care of alone.

"We should get Maggie over here," Dean said, changing the subject. "I'm sure she'll want to see you, Sara. She talked about our cousin from California for ages after you left."

Sara grinned. "I'd like to see her, too."

"I told you everyone would remember you," Margaret said with a smile. "I'll start calling everyone. We can have them over for dinner tonight."

"Oh, Grandma, I don't want you to go to so much trouble," Sara said quickly.

Margaret waved her hand dismissively as she went to the phone. "How often do I get to have my family all together like this? It's no trouble at all."

* * *

Family began appearing that evening at five, which was the time Margaret had set for the party to begin, but didn't stop arriving until nearly six. Sara was stunned as the house filled. She hadn't realized how much her family had grown. While Dean was unmarried, Maggie arrived with her husband and three children; she was hardly the only one of Sara's cousins to have a family.

Sara was hugged by one person after another. Grinning cousins, shy children, crying aunts, laughing uncles … Sara wondered how she could possibly have forgotten to remember these people over the past twenty years. As her grandmother had promised, they all still remembered her. And, they loved her. That much was certain. She could feel it in their hugs, see it in their eyes and hear it in their voices.

Her aunt Carol cried the hardest as she hugged Sara tightly. Only a year younger than Malcolm, she had been the closest to him, and had felt his death more than anyone in the family.

"Oh, Sara," she sighed, trying to stop crying. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to hug you."

Tears pressed against the backs of Sara's eyes as she hugged her aunt again. "I'm so sorry, Aunt Carol," she said. "I'm sorry I've stayed away."

"Ancient history," she said, wiping her eyes. "You're here now. That's what matters."

Sara nodded. "Yes."

Carol looked deeply into her eyes. "I can see him in you, you know. The kindness in your eyes … I could always see it in his, too."

The tears she had fought to hold back filled her eyes, and Sara blinked desperately. "I wish I could remember him like you do," she nearly whispered.

Carol, not fully understanding what Sara meant, nodded. "You were so young when he died," she said. "You should have had so many more years to build memories of him."

_Pleasant memories_, Sara mentally corrected. She had plenty of memories of her father that she would be more than willing to forget.

"Carol, stop hogging Sara!"

Sara turned as her aunt Nancy, her father's youngest sister who was eleven years his junior, joined them. She hugged Sara, blinking back tears and laughing.

"Look at you, girl! Carol, doesn't she look like Virginia did at her age?"

"A bit," Carol conceded.

"A bit," Nancy repeated, shaking her head. "You've got Sidle all over you, honey."

Sara felt two very distinct stabs of pain at her words. The first was at the idea that she could have inherited anything beyond her brown eyes and hair from her father. The second, the one that stuck, was at the term of endearment. Grissom used "honey" for her more commonly than any name other than her own, and hearing it made her miss him all the more. She suddenly wanted to have him next to her more than anything.

"Tell us about you," Nancy said. "Mom told me you went to Harvard and majored in physics."

Sara nodded. "Yes."

Carol smiled. "Your father always said you were a genius."

Sara blushed. "I don't know about that."

"What do you do?" Nancy pressed. "I've always wondered where Harvard graduates ended up."

"I'm a crime scene investigator," Sara said. As when her grandmother had asked, it was easier to tell a half-truth than to admit the full truth.

"That sounds challenging," Carol said, looking deeply into Sara's eyes again.

"It can be," Sara said evasively.

"Do you still live in California?" Carol asked.

Sara shook her head. "I was there recently visiting my mother, but my home is in Las Vegas."

"So glamorous!" Nancy laughed. "Wait until I tell my coworkers that my niece lives in Vegas! One of them is so proud of her nephew in Miami – this should shut her up for an hour or two."

Sara couldn't help but laugh at that. "Vegas isn't as glamorous as you'd think." She shook her head. "Maybe I've seen too much," she added quietly, the smile sliding off her face.

Sensing her change in mood, Carol squeezed her arm. "But, you call it home."

Sara nodded. "I do."

"Do you have a family there?"

Sara smiled, thinking of her coworkers turned friends. "Of a non-traditional sort, yes."

"Significant other?"

She smiled again, thinking that aunts, by their very nature, were nosy. "Yes." Knowing that it would get them off her back quickly, she took her cell phone out of her pocket and opened it. "This is of the two of us at Christmas."

Her mother had taken the picture of Sara and Grissom in front of the tree right after they had finished decorating it. Sara could easily remember how happy she had been.

"Oh, look at him," Nancy said with a grin. "He's very handsome, Sara."

"What's his name?" Carol asked.

"Gil," Sara replied.

"Just a boyfriend?" Nancy asked.

Sara swallowed sudden tears. "A soul mate," she said, shocked at her own honesty.

Nancy and Carol both nodded their approval. "You look happy in this picture," Carol said. "And, your face lit up just saying his name. You love him very much."

Sara nodded.

"You should have brought him," Nancy said. "We would have loved to meet him."

Carol laughed. "I don't know, Nance. Remember how long it took me to subject Ron to this crowd?"

"That was different," Nancy argued. "That was back when Dad was in his prime."

Carol's smile faltered. "You're right," she said quietly.

"What do you mean?" Sara asked, realizing that they were hinting at what her mother had described.

"Not today," Carol said, patting her arm. "This is a time for happy memories. We can save the sad ones for later."

* * *

It was late when Sara finally returned to her hotel room. Her grandmother had been appalled that she would pay for a hotel when she had so much family in town, but Sara insisted that she would be happier this way. And, truly, she was. She exhaled a sigh of relief as she stepped into her still, quiet room. Her evening with family had been fun, but it had also been noisy, busy and exhausting.

Even though she was tired, she knew she couldn't sleep without having one last conversation. Smiling, she opened her phone and called Grissom.

"Hi, honey," he said as he answered.

Sara grinned, knowing that his greeting meant that he wasn't at work. "Hey," she said. "Are you busy?"

"Nope. I have the night off."

"Oh, really? What are you planning to do with yourself?"

"I was hoping to have a conversation with a gorgeous brunette."

"Good luck with that," Sara said with a smile, pleased that he was in such a playful mood. "I hope you can find one."

"I think I already did," he replied. "And, she sounds like she had a pretty good day in Pittsburgh."

Sara smiled. "Yeah, she did."

"What did you do?" Grissom asked.

"I went to see my grandmother," Sara replied. "I think it's safe to say she remembered me."

"Is she like you remembered?"

"Yes." She smiled. "She invited the entire family over to welcome me to town."

"Did you remember them?"

"Some of them better than others," Sara said. "But they …"

"What?"

"They were great. They really just … hugged me and wouldn't let go." She blinked back tears. "I wish you could have been with me. I would have like for you to meet them."

"I can come out," Grissom said. "Probably not by tomorrow morning, but, if you're going to be there another week or two, I'm sure I can pull it together."

"No, don't do that," Sara said. "It'll be ridiculously expensive to fly out here on less than a week's notice. Just … maybe we can both come back another time so you can meet everyone."

"I'd like that," Grissom said.

"Me, too." Sara paused. "We can come back in the summer, though. It's cold here right now!"

Grissom chuckled. "You're spoiled. You haven't had a real winter in years."

"Not since undergrad," she replied. She sighed. "I wish you were here to keep me warm."

"Mm," Grissom hummed. "Me, too."

"My feet are freezing," she added.

Grissom laughed. "My legs are cold just thinking about it."

Sara laughed with him. "I love you, Gil."

"I love you, too – even your freezing, cold feet."

Sara chuckled. "It's been a long day. Do you mind terribly if I say good night?"

"Not at all," Grissom replied. "Sweet dreams, love."

"You, too." Sara yawned. "Good night."

"Good night."

Grissom listened as she hung up, then closed his own phone. He turned to the cowboy poem on his desk and sighed.

_I can't help now but wonder what your brown eyes were concealing.  
They just showed me reflections of all that I was feeling._

_Our bodies close together like my ride hand in my glove.  
Hearts pounding with excitement, and, dare I say it, love._

_I know I'll never own you it's your nature to run free.  
I pray the Lord above that one day you'll come back to me._

_Then, we'll ride off in glory until our time is done  
And, I will be your hero, your cowboy in the sun._

"Please, Sara," he murmured. "Please, come back to me."


	24. Discoveries

A/N: Again, I'm sorry for the updating delay. I've been out of town almost every weekend for the past month, so … it's nice to finally be home and to have the time to write. And, more importantly, I'm only four days away from summer vacation, so my updates should become more frequent in the foreseeable future.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this one.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration is taken from episode 907, "Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda."

* * *

_Discoveries_

Grissom watched as rain pounded down on the lab windows. A crack of thunder split the air, and he shuddered.

It hadn't rained so hard since the night Sara had been taken. Just hearing it hit the window like it had that night was enough to take him back to a place he never wanted to be again. The all-encompassing fear was beginning to creep in around the edges of his soul, filling him with an intense, irrational need to call her. He needed to hear her voice, to reassure himself that she was fine.

"Hey."

Grissom jumped slightly as Catherine came up behind him. She looked at him with concern.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded. "Sorry … I was thinking."

She looked at him for a moment longer, then turned to look out the window. She only had to watch it rain for a few seconds before understanding dawned.

"How's Sara?" she asked softly.

"Fine," Grissom replied almost automatically. He blinked and turned to look at her. "She's visiting her grandmother in Pittsburgh."

"Yeah, I remember," Catherine said, still in the same soft, gentle tone. "Is she enjoying it there?"

"She seems to be," Grissom said. He chuckled slightly. "She's not enjoying the cold weather, but she's happy to see her family."

"Good." Catherine reached over to squeeze his upper arm. "She's a tough cookie, Gil. Even when she cracks, she doesn't break."

Grissom turned to face her for the first time since she had initially joined him. She held his eyes for a moment, then smiled and turned to walk away.

"By the way," she called over her shoulder, "Brass just called. He's at the scene of a triple homicide. I'll meet you at the car."

* * *

Sara stood at her grandmother's living room window, watching the snow fall. Even though it was warm in the house, she wrapped her hand tighter around her mug of tea as if to draw some of its heat into her body.

She felt a stab of sorrow as she watched the snow, thinking of how much she would have loved to share it with Grissom. He told her once that he had taken a walk in the snow every day while he was lecturing at Williams – and, every day, he had wished that she could have been there to share it with him.

_Now I know exactly how you felt_.

She took a slow sip of her drink, trying to banish the feeling of loneliness that was creeping up inside her.

"You miss him, don't you?"

Sara nearly jumped at the sound of her grandmother's voice at her side. Margaret had gone to take a phone call, leaving Sara alone with her tea. Lost in her thoughts, she had not even heard the older woman reenter the room.

"I'm glad you miss him," Margaret continued. "If you didn't, I'd think there was a problem in your relationship."

Sara smiled a bit sadly. "I do miss him."

"You should have brought him with you," Margaret replied.

"He offered," Sara said. "But, I didn't want him to spend all that money and to miss work just because I needed him to hold my hand."

Margaret smiled slightly. "You sound like your aunt Nancy."

Sara frowned slightly.

"Independent," Margaret clarified.

"My mother would say _too_ independent," Sara said with a chuckle. "From what I've heard, I was a difficult child to care for and help."

"Good," Margaret said with a fierceness that surprised Sara. "I watched all three of my girls grow up … Nancy had the easiest time of it. I think it was her independence that saved her from a lot of the pain and heartache that Carol and Virginia endured."

Sara's heart began to hammer in her chest. "What kind of pain, Grandma?"

Margaret's eyes clouded. "Don't you worry about that, Sara. It's all in the past now. Let it be."

"No," Sara said, her voice strong in the quiet house. "No, I can't not worry about it. I need to know, Grandma. I need …"

"Sara," Margaret said, taking her hand and leading her to the sofa, "what you need can't be found by reopening old wounds. They've healed. Leave them be."

Sara shook her head. "No, Grandma, they haven't. Not for me."

Margaret frowned. "What do you mean, sweetie?"

Sara took a deep breath. She knew exactly how hard this would be, but knew that if she didn't do it, she'd never get the answers she sought. "When I first arrived, you asked me what I wasn't telling you. I didn't answer, because I wasn't ready." She paused, then looked straight into her grandmother's eyes, willing her voice not to shake. "I'm not sure I'm ready now, either. I'm not sure I'll ever be ready to tell you what happened, but if I don't …"

Margaret took the mug of tea from Sara and set it on the coffee table, then took her hands. "Sara, if you don't want to –"

Sara shook her head. "I need to."

Margaret nodded and squeezed her hands.

"I told you that I was a crime scene investigator." At Margaret's nod, she continued, "Last year, my team caught a serial killer. It was this incredibly difficult, intricate case – I'll spare you the details – with a killer who was completely psychotic. She has a lot of mental problems, and the fact that she grew up in foster care didn't help." She paused and swallowed. "We're an incredible team, Grandma. I work with some of the most amazing forensic experts in the country. But, we couldn't …" Her voice died and she paused again. "The serial killer caught me before we could catch her."

Margaret's hands tightened around Sara's, but she didn't interrupt.

"Again, I'll spare you the details, but … I spent a lot of time alone in the desert before I was rescued. All those hours, in the sun and heat, wandering around … I had too much time, probably, to think. And, I don't know why or how, but it hit me … probably after I was home again, I guess … I've never talked about the past. I've never given it a chance to be properly mourned, and, until I do that, I can never let it rest in peace. I can't just let it be." Tears filled her eyes. "Until I can understand it, it can't become the past. It'll always be my present. And, with a present like that … I can't live my life." She looked away, fighting with everything in her against the sobs that wanted to shake her body.

"Sara …" Margaret shook her head. "I don't know what I can possibly say that will make it better for you."

"I need … I need to understand my father."

Margaret frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I need to know that there was a reason that he abused my mother and me the way he did."

"Sara …"

The look in her grandmother's eyes sent a rush of anger through her. "Don't deny it!" Sara exclaimed. "You weren't there! You don't know what happened to us!"

"You're right; I wasn't there," Margaret agreed. "But, Sara …"

"But, what?"

"You have to know that he loved you."

"He loved me," Sara repeated slowly, her voice choked with the tears she was still fighting. "When, exactly? Did he love me when he hit me for dropping my spoon on the floor? Or … when he screamed at my mother so loudly it woke me up in time to see him slap her so hard she fell? Or, when he threw a vase across the room and watched it smash on the wall above my head?"

"Like you said, I wasn't there, Sara. I can't defend what he did. And, even if I had been, I likely wouldn't. But, I can tell you that he called me when you came home after your very first spelling test, so excited to tell me that you had gotten a perfect score. I can tell you that when you were born, he bought a plane ticket for me to fly out to California to see his new little daughter. And, I can tell you that he was terrified to take the training wheels off your bike, because he didn't want to watch you fall."

Sara shook her head. "That doesn't change –"

"It doesn't change a thing," Margaret interrupted. "But, Sara, if you knew …"

"_Tell me_," Sara begged. "That's why I'm here. I want to know. I want to understand."

"Oh, Sara, you've already put it all together on your own. You've listened to your mother's stories. You know what I'm going to tell you."

"I want to hear _you_ tell me."

Margaret drew in a deep breath. "Your grandfather abused us – he abused me, your aunts, your uncle and your father. Physically, verbally … we lived under his rules, and to break them was to merit a punishment. Your father learned from an early age that aggression was the appropriate outlet for anger. I know he didn't want to be like his father, but I also know that he was in more fights as school than all four of my other children combined. He had an uncontrollable temper, and, sadly, his father had taught him through example that hitting his wife and daughters was acceptable."

Sara shook her head wordlessly, tears filling her eyes again.

"Isn't that what your mother told you?"

"Yes," Sara nearly whispered. "I just … I wanted … I hoped it wasn't true."

Sorrow and compassion filled Margaret's eyes. "I wanted it to be untrue, too. Believe me. I wanted it to end. But, it wasn't like it is now. I couldn't just leave my husband. I didn't go to college, I didn't work … I couldn't possibly support my children. I tried to protect them, but I couldn't … no more than your mother could protect you."

"You knew?" Sara asked.

"I had a feeling," Margaret said slowly, not meeting Sara's eyes. "I could tell something … wasn't right, but I didn't want to interfere. It wasn't my marriage, or my problem to solve."

"What about when it became your problem?"

"What do you mean?"

"When my mother …" Sara shook her head and tried again. "When my father died, I don't remember seeing you at the funeral."

"No," Margaret agreed. "It is the greatest regret of my life."

"Why weren't you there?"

"Money," she said sadly.

"What?"

Margaret sighed. "Your grandfather didn't want to pay so much money to fly to California for the funeral. I fought him on it – it was the first fight we had had in years – but, I couldn't convince him to spend money that we truly didn't have." She shook her head. "Even if I had been able to convince him, my black eye and bruised ribs wouldn't have traveled well."

Shock registered on Sara's face.

"That was the last time," Margaret said. "I think the loss of his firstborn – his _son_ – hit him hard. He became more … mellow, I suppose, after that. I wish I had known at the time …"

"What difference would it have made?" Sara asked. "The past had already happened."

Margaret looked at her for a moment. "Did you ever wonder why I let you go into foster care? Why I didn't just swoop in and take you home with me?"

"Every single day I was in the system," Sara whispered, "I would wish on every star I could find that you would come for me."

"I wanted to," Margaret said. "As soon as I got that phone call from the police telling me what happened … I told that officer who called to keep you safe for me, and that I'd be there as soon as I could to pick you up and bring you here. But, then, that fight … I couldn't do it, Sara. I was afraid to bring you here. I was afraid of what your grandfather would do to you. I had watched him hit my daughters the entire time they were growing up. I couldn't watch him treat my granddaughter – Malcolm's only child – the same way."

"You thought that living with strangers would be better for me?" Sara asked in a carefully controlled voice, willing herself not to cry.

"Yes," Margaret nearly whispered. "And, Sara, I still think it was."

"What about the others? My aunts and uncles?"

"Oh, sweetie, I know they all wanted to take you. But, in the 1980s, this was not a good place to live. The steels mills shut down, the industry went out of the city … I think just about everyone in our family was either unemployed or underemployed. It was a long time before any of my children could afford anything beyond the basics."

"So, you're saying they couldn't afford me?"

"It sounds callous, but, yes. We were all stretched so thin back then, Sara. It just … wasn't a possibility."

Sara's tears spilled over. "You know, in a strange way, I'm actually glad."

"What do you mean?"

"I wished for so long for you to come to rescue me. If you had, you would have brought me here. I could have loved it here. I could have loved living with you. I could have learned to fear my own mother. And, when she came to take me back, I would have been devastated. I would have lost two parents, as well as an entire family.

"But, as it was, I bounced from one family to the next. It was only the last one that I truly learned to love. And, even with them, I was so excited to go home to my mom. They didn't make me hate her for killing my father the way you would have. They didn't make me choose sides the way you would have. They let me love both of them, and kept me safe until she could take me home again."

"Sara, I wouldn't have –"

"Yes, you would have," Sara interrupted. "And, I would expect it. What kind of mother would you be if you didn't side with your own son against the woman who killed him?"

"I don't think of her that way," Margaret nearly whispered.

"How do you think of her?"

Tears gathered in Margaret's eyes again. "I think of her as me – as a stronger version of me."

Sara frowned.

"She didn't want to marry a man who would abuse her," Margaret explained. "It just happened that way. She fell in love with the wrong man, just like I did. She wanted to protect her child, just like I did. The difference between us, Sara, is that Laura protected you in a way I was never strong enough to protect my children – she took the abuser out of your life."

Sara gasped.

"I don't think she chose the right method," Margaret hastened to clarify. "She could have left him. She could have supported you, and divorce had become so much more acceptable by then. But …"

"But?" Sara prompted.

"I can certainly understand what it's like to see no other way out. I can understand what it's like to just … snap."

Sara stared at her in stunned silence.

"Oh, Sara," Margaret sighed. "We come from a terrible, terrible past. We really do. But, like I told you before, the past is behind us now. That horrible violence has ended. We're a loving, peaceful family now, with no more dark secrets to hide. We have to live in the present, and for the future." She grabbed Sara's hands again. "We have to love one another, and to hold on to the bonds of family with everything in us. In the end, nothing else matters."

* * *

Grissom was walking Hank when his phone rang. He shifted the dog's leash from one hand to the other so he could answer the phone.

"Grissom."

"Hi, Dr. Grissom. It's Valerie Nichols."

"ADA Nichols," Grissom said. Over the years, he had become accustomed to calls from the district attorney's office about his cases. Not everyone understood the science on the first read through of a case. "How may I help you?"

I need to talk to you," ADA Nichols replied. "It's urgent. How soon can you be at my office?"

Grissom looked at his watch. While it wasn't uncommon to be summoned to talk to at least one of the ADAs, it was very unusual to be told it was an urgent meeting. "I'll be there within an hour."

"I'll be waiting."

* * *

Valerie Nichols, as promised, was waiting in her office when Grissom arrived. She gave him the tense smile he had learned to associate with her over the years.

"Dr. Grissom," she said. "Have a seat."

Grissom sat down across her desk from her, noting that a case file was sitting on it. "Can I help you with a case?" he asked.

"Yes," Valerie replied. "We have a trial date set for Natalie Davis."

Grissom's sense of balance seemed to shift. He blinked. "Natalie? I thought she was …"

"She's come out of the catatonic state," Valerie explained. "We want to take her to trial as quickly as possible … before something else …"

Grissom nodded. "Yes, of course."

"I'll need you and your entire team to testify on this one, Gil."

"Of course," Grissom said again.

She drew a deep breath. "Also … I'd really like to put Sara on the stand."

"Sara," Grissom repeated.

"Yes." She waved her hand over the case file in front of her. "I know that Natalie was the Miniature Killer. The evidence in her apartment is impressive. However, she left so little evidence at the crime scenes, and … well …" She sighed. "I've met her, Gil. She's a pretty girl with mental problems. She lost her mother and her sister at a young age, and was sent into foster care by her father. She could easily present a very sympathetic front to a jury."

"And, patients with psychopathic tendencies are very good at mimicking genuine emotion."

"Exactly. I don't want her to get up on that stand and make us all think that she's truly sorry, that she didn't know what she was doing … I'm not letting this one get off, Gil. Not after what she did to Sara."

Grissom was truly touched by Valerie's fierce desire to avenge the wrong that had been brought upon Sara. He nodded. "Okay," he said. "I'll talk to Sara."

"Thank you," Valerie said. "Trial date is February 12. The sooner you can have her in my office, the sooner we can get her prepped."

"She's out of town right now," Grissom said slowly. "I'll have to talk to her about when she can come back."

Valerie nodded. "The sooner the better."

* * *

Sara was just walking back into her hotel room after her exhausting afternoon with her grandmother when her phone rang. She tossed her purse on the desk and pulled out the phone, smiling when she saw Grissom's name on the display.

"Hi, sexy," she said.

Grissom's smile crossed the miles to her. "Hello, dear."

"Off work?"

"I actually got out on time today."

Sara's eyebrows shot up. "I thought you only worked doubles anymore."

"I needed a rest," he said lightly.

Something in his tone caught Sara's attention. "Gil … what's wrong?"

Grissom sighed. "I just talked to ADA Nichols."

"Okay …"

"She's taking Natalie Davis to trial."

Sara sat down hard on the bed, thankful that it was right behind her. "Oh," she managed to choke out.

"Sara … Valerie wants you to testify."

"Against Natalie?"

"Yes."

"In court?"

"Yes."

Sara closed her eyes and shook her head. "Gil …"

"Sara, please," he said. "Please, at least consider it. I … I can't stand the idea of Natalie walking on this. Your testimony would mean so much …"

"I don't know if I can," Sara whispered.

"Sara, you are the strongest woman I've ever known. I know you can do this."

Sudden tears slid down Sara's cheeks as she nodded. "I'll … think about it."

Grissom exhaled. "Good." He paused. "I love you. You know that, right?"

Sara nodded again, even though he couldn't see her. "Yes. I love you, too."

"And, you know I'd never put you in this position if I didn't think it was absolutely necessary, right?"

"Yes," she nearly whispered.

"Sara … I'm so sorry."

She blinked, hating herself for making him feel that way. "You have nothing to be sorry for," she said. "You're just doing the right thing, like you always do."

"Still …"

She shook her head. "Griss … I need some time. Can I call you later?"

"Of course. I love you, honey."

"I love you, too."

Sara closed her phone and stared at it for a minute.

_I need to be strong. Strong like my mother … strong like Gil. I need to do the right thing, like he would._

Another tear slid down her cheek.

"You can do this, Sara," she whispered. "It's time to put the past to rest."


	25. Obligation

A/N: This chapter is something of a bridge between the last one and the next one. I hope you like it.

I don't own CSI. I also don't own Pamela's, which is an actual restaurant in Pittsburgh. They make the most amazing pancakes! If you're ever in the area, please check it out. President Obama is even a fan – he tried them during a campaign stop, then invited the owners to the White House to make pancakes for a Memorial Day breakfast with the troops last year.

* * *

_Obligation_

A knock on her hotel room door at eight in the morning was the last thing Sara expected to hear two days after her emotional conversation with her grandmother. She was surprised to see her aunt Carol standing in the hallway.

"Aunt Carol," she said, opening the door wide enough to admit her. "Good morning."

Carol smiled brightly. "Good morning, sweetie. Have you had breakfast?"

"No," Sara admitted. "I just got dressed."

"Good," Carol replied. "Grab your purse. We're going out."

"Where are we going?"

"Pamela's," Carol said. "You can't come to Pittsburgh without going there."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Sara and Carol were seated at a table in the diner. Sara studied the menu, but her aunt sat back without looking at it.

"What do you recommend?" Sara asked.

"Pancakes," Carol replied without hesitation. "They're famous for them."

Sara shrugged. "Okay, then. I'll try the strawberry pancakes."

Carol beamed. "Excellent choice. They're my favorite."

After their order had been placed and their drinks had arrived, Carol looked at Sara with kind eyes.

"I heard you talked to Grandma," she said gently.

Deciding it would be ridiculous to play dumb, Sara nodded.

"Is that why you came here, Sara? To rehash the past?"

Sara frowned slightly. "I wasn't _rehashing_ anything. I … I needed answers."

"To what questions?"

"I know what kind of man my father was," Sara said. "My mother told me something recently that made me want to know what kind of people all of you are."

"And?"

Sara smiled. "I've loved getting to know you."

"We've loved getting to know you, too," Carol said.

Their pancakes arrived, silencing them for several moments as they took their first bites. Carol looked at Sara expectantly.

"Well?"

"They're amazing," Sara murmured around a mouthful of crepe-like pancake and strawberries.

Carol grinned. "I knew you'd love them."

They ate in silence for a moment before Carol spoke again.

"Sara … I'm not sure you truly know what kind of man your father was."

Sara frowned. "I lived with him for thirteen years."

"I know, sweetheart, but …" She sighed. "I wish you had known him the way that I did. I wish you had known him when he was younger … before life hardened him."

"Grandma told me he always had a temper. That he was always in fights."

"True," Carol replied. "I won't deny that he had a temper like none of the rest of us kids. But, Sara, he loved his family more than anything. You have to understand that."

"You know what?" Sara said. "I've been a CSI for over a decade. I've seen countless women whose husbands beat them over and over again, but who keep going back to them because they're convinced that those same men who break their fingers and dislocate their shoulders _love_ them. More than anything, probably. That's not love, Aunt Carol. What my father did to my mother has nothing to do with love, and everything to do with violence and control." She shook her head and looked away. "And, from what Grandma told me yesterday, it's something of a trend in our family."

"It was," Carol admitted quietly. "Yes, Sara, my father beat my mother. And, my brothers and sisters and I watched it happen. He beat us, too, when he thought we deserved it." Tears filled her eyes. "I thought it was normal," she confessed. "I just assumed that all families were like that. Uncle Ron taught me that love doesn't involve violence." She paused and wiped the tears from her eyes. "You showed me a picture of your boyfriend. I'll bet he's a kind man."

Sara nodded, feeling tears gather in her own eyes. "He's the most wonderful man I could ever hope to meet."

"And, I'm sure he never raises a hand to you."

Sara shook her head. "Rarely even his voice."

"That's how Uncle Ron is with me. And, that's how our family is now – _all_ of us. Sara, we saw a terrible example of violence as we grew up. But, we conquered it, and we've come out stronger on the other side."

"My father didn't," Sara said quietly.

"He wanted to," Carol said. "Oh, goodness, Sara, he wanted to be stronger than that. He didn't want to hurt you or your mother. He didn't want to be like our father."

"Then … why …?"

She smiled sadly. "Sometimes, even the best of intentions aren't enough. Sometimes, we're too weak to follow through." She shook her head. "Your father was remarkably strong in the physical sense. He was so tall … over six feet … and so muscular. He played football and wrestled in high school, and he was famous for beating everyone in arm wrestling contests. But, he never learned how to use his strength properly. He never learned … how to be a gentle giant. He was just …"

"A giant," Sara finished quietly.

Carol nodded. "But, Sara, for all you said about those women who run back to their abusers …" Tears filled her eyes again. "I loved your father." She shrugged. "He was my older brother. He defended me from bullies at school, and more than once he took a hit from our father that was meant for me." She reached across to grab Sara's hand. "What I'm trying to say, sweetie, is that, for all of his faults – and they were many – you have to know that your father had a good heart. He _did_ love his family … he just didn't know how to show it."

"Grandma said something similar."

"Grandma was right," Carol asserted. "He loved you, Sara. I know he did."

Sara sighed and looked away. "I'm just like those women I see at work," she said, dragging her eyes back to her aunt's. "For as much as I hated him … I loved him, too."

* * *

Grissom picked up the assignment slips he had just prepared ahead of going into his beginning of shift meeting with his team. He was about to leave his office when the phone on his desk rang. Sighing, he returned to the desk to pick it up.

"Grissom."

"Hi, Gil. It's Valerie Nichols."

"Hello," Grissom said cautiously. He had a feeling he knew exactly why she was calling, and he doubted she would be pleased the news – or lack thereof – he had to give her.

"I'm calling about the Natalie Davis case," she said.

_Bingo_. "Did you need to go over some of the forensics?" he asked, hoping that might be the case, and, admittedly, trying to divert her attention.

"Not yet," she replied. "I was just calling to see what Sara's return date is."

Grissom exhaled. "She hasn't set a definite date yet," he said evasively.

Truth be told, Grissom had not spoken with Sara since calling to ask her to come home for the trial two days previously. He wanted to give her some space to process everything. He was certain she would come home to testify, but knew that she needed to make up her own mind about it. Pushing her would do him no good.

"Okay," Valerie said slowly. "She needs to do that soon, Gil. I'm sure the department can pay her airfare if she's trying to find a cheap flight. This is official business."

"Of course," Grissom replied, hoping that she meant _her_ department would pay for Sara's flight. He knew that there was no way CSI would pay for it. "She knows how important this is, Valerie. I'm sure she'll be back in plenty of time. As soon as I hear from her, I'll call you."

"Okay," Valerie said. "I'll be in touch."

"Thank you for calling," Grissom said.

"Bye, Gil."

"Goodbye."

Grissom hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment. He exhaled slowly.

He needed to know what Sara was thinking. He needed to know where she was in her decision-making process.

_She needs to be here. _Now_. If she were here, I wouldn't have to worry about whether or not it was too soon to call her. I could look into her eyes and know if she was ready to talk._

But, she wasn't with him, and hadn't been for a long time. Grissom exhaled slowly again, trying to rein in his frustration with the situation.

_You can't be angry with her. Think of what she's been through. She deserves time to think things through, and to get her perspective back._

He just wished he knew how much time she would need.

* * *

The ringing of Sara's cell phone cut through the stillness of the museum. She had decided to visit the art and natural history museum on a whim, and was completely engrossed in a Caravaggio when her phone rang. Her face flushed as she fumbled for the phone, hoping she wouldn't be kicked out of the museum for leaving the ringer on.

"Hello?" she said quietly, already rushing back to the café area, where she was sure she could talk without disturbing others.

"Hi, Sara. It's Dean."

"Hi," she said cheerfully, feeling relieved that she had made it to an area where she could speak at a normal level. "What's up?"

"Well, I have exciting news," he said. "I just got two tickets to tonight's Pens game, and I wanted to see if you'd like to come with me."

"Really?" Sara exclaimed. "I thought tickets were impossible to get!"

"Yeah, I just won a drawing at work," Dean replied, his excitement traveling across the phone to Sara.

"Are you sure you want to go with me?" Sara asked. "You could take your sister or one of your friends or –"

"Sara," Dean interrupted. "I'm calling you because I want to take you. So, are you in?"

Sara grinned. "Yeah. I'm in."

"Great! The puck drops at 7:08, so I'll pick you up at about 6:00. That will give us time to park and get in in time to see some of the warm ups."

"Okay," Sara said, glancing at her watch. _Two hours_. "Sounds great."

"Excellent. I'll see you then."

"Thanks, Dean."

"You're welcome."

Sara was incredibly excited about going to the game. She didn't own anything appropriate to wear, so she stopped at a street vendor a few blocks from the museum to buy a Penguins shirt. Pleased with her new purchase, she went back to her hotel to start getting ready.

* * *

Just after six, Dean called to tell her he was waiting for her outside. He grinned as Sara emerged with her coat unzipped to show off her new Pens apparel.

"Lookin' good," he said.

"Should I have gotten a jersey?" she asked, noting his official Malkin jersey.

"No, this is fine," he said. "Come on, get in the car. We've got a game to attend!"

* * *

Sara had a great time at the game. She ate nachos, drank beer, and cheered her team to victory.

"Thank you so much for taking me," Sara said to Dean as they walked out of the arena after watching the Pens defeat the Hurricanes. "I had so much fun."

"I'm glad," Dean said. "Have you been to a Pens game before?"

"Not since the last time I came to Pittsburgh," Sara replied. "Grandpa took me and my dad. We got to see Mario's first game." Even after only two weeks in Pittsburgh, she had learned that Mario Lemieux was commonly referred to as simply, "Mario."

"No way! That's so unfair. I didn't see Grandpa handing any tickets to Mario's first game my way."

Sara laughed. "Well, to be fair, no one knew how that one would turn out."

"True." He smiled. "The night is still young. How do you feel about a drink?"

"Sure," Sara agreed.

"Great! I know just the place."

Twenty minutes later, Sara and Dean were seated at a table in a bar full of Penguins fans. The local news was playing on the bar's televisions; fans cheered as the highlights from the game were shown.

"So, are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Dean asked, taking a drink of his beer.

"What do you mean?" Sara asked. "This has been a great night!"

"I know, and I know you said that before," Dean replied. "But, there's something else … I don't know what, but I know that you've got the same look Maggie gets when she's upset about something but won't talk about it."

Sara sighed. "Heredity gave me away, huh?"

"Yup," Dean said with a grin. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong, or should I start guessing?"

"You'll never guess."

"Is that a challenge?"

Sara smiled. "I've been asked to go back to Vegas to testify in a trial."

Dean frowned. "I'll admit that I don't really, fully understand what you do, but … I thought that you _had_ to testify in trials. Isn't that part of your job?"

"Generally speaking, yeah. And, generally speaking, I don't mind it. But, _this_ trial …"

"Harder than the others?"

"More personal," Sara said.

Dean frowned.

"I was the victim," Sara clarified.

"Oh, Sara."

"Let's just say, I came out of it with a broken arm and lots of bumps and bruises," Sara said. "And, a lot of confusion."

Dean nodded. "Can't they do the trial without you?"

"They probably could," Sara said. "But, from what Gil said, they really do need my testimony."

"Gil? Your boyfriend?"

Sara nodded. "He's a CSI, too."

"Ah." Dean took another drink. "So, what are you going to do?"

Sara smirked. "I've known what I'm going to do since he called me two days ago. I just have to talk myself into doing it."

"You're going back, aren't you?"

She nodded, pain and sorrow filling her eyes.

"Hey."

Sara looked up.

"I think it's great that you're doing this," Dean said. "You're showing your attacker that you hold the power. You're not afraid anymore. You're not afraid to go back, and you're not afraid to discuss what happened. You're the strong one here, Sara. I'm proud of you."

Sara shook her head. "It's not that. It's … I have to do this. I have to do it for my team … for Gil. If I don't, and they lose this case … I can't let them down like that."

"Call it whatever you want," Dean said. "Either way, you're the strongest cousin I have."

Sara smiled slightly. "Thanks, Dean. For everything."

"Sara, it's been my pleasure."

* * *

Grissom was documenting the kitchen of his latest homicide victim when his phone rang, its display lighting up with Sara's name. Thankful that she had waited to call until after he had gotten David's report, he flipped his phone open.

"Grissom."

"Can you talk?"

"For a minute."

"Are you still at work?" Sara asked.

Grissom chuckled. "Still? Honey, it's the beginning of my shift."

Sara looked at her bedside clock. "Huh. I guess it is."

"What's up? Why are you up so late? It's after two AM on the east coast."

"I was out with my cousin," she said. "He took me to a Penguins game."

"Sounds like fun."

"It was," Sara affirmed. "Then, we went out for a drink, and got to talking, and …"

"And?" Grissom prompted, suddenly nervous about what she might say next.

"I just booked my flight back to Vegas. I'll get in on January 28 at 4:25. Can you pick me up at the airport?"

Grissom's face broke into a smile. "Yeah, I can do that."

"Great. I'll email you my flight information."

"Okay."

"Okay," Sara repeated. "Look, I know you're probably busy … I just wanted to let you know my plans."

"Sara …"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

She smiled. "You're welcome. I love you, Gil."

"You, too."

She grinned at his refusal to repeat the words at work. "I'll see you in two weeks."

A warm sensation spread through Grissom's entire being. "See you then."

* * *

The decision over who would drive Sara to the airport was a battle of wills and courtesy. No one wanted to inconvenience anyone else, and everyone wanted to take on the burden him or herself. Sara was ready to end the exceptionally polite argument by taking a cab when the decision was made. Her grandmother, aunt Carol and Dean would _all_ take her to the airport.

The drive seemed all too short to Sara, who wanted as much time with her family as possible. Dean parked in the short term lot so they could go in with her to say goodbye.

Her boarding pass printed and luggage sent through security and to the plane, Sara turned to her family. Tears filled her eyes even as she tried to smile.

"Thank you all so much," she said. "You've been so kind to me, and so open and loving, and … I'm so glad I had the chance to know you as an adult."

"We are, too, Sara," Carol said, hugging her tightly. "I'm so glad you came to visit us."

"We all are," Margaret said, taking her turn to hug her. She pulled back and touched Sara's cheek. "Your father would be proud of the woman you've become."

"I'm proud of you, too," Dean said, hugging her as soon as their grandmother released her. "I know you'll do great in Vegas."

Sara nodded. "I hope so. You'll have to come and visit me there."

"I definitely will," Dean replied. "I've always wanted to see Vegas."

"You'd love it."

After one last hug for each of them, Sara readjusted her shoulder bag and gave them a wobbly smile.

"I guess this is it, then."

Margaret shook her head. "Not at all. Now that you know the way, you can come back anytime. You are more than welcome."

"And, you have to come back with that boyfriend of yours," Carol said, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "We need to meet him."

"And approve of him," Dean added. "My cousin can't date just anyone."

Sara smiled. "I'll bring him to meet you. I promise."

"Good," Margaret said. "It's not really goodbye, then. Just, see you soon."

Sara nodded. "I'll see you all soon."

"Right," Carol agreed.

With one last smile, and one last hug for her grandmother, Sara made her way into the security line. She didn't look back, even though she knew her family would still be there, watching until they couldn't see her anymore.

It wasn't time to look back. It was time to look ahead.

It was time to go home.


	26. Reunion

A/N: It's short, it's sweet, and it's a little break from all the heaviness that poor Sara and Grissom have been experiencing in this story. It's not exactly the chapter I set out to write, but, I decided they deserved a little moment of fun. I hope you'll agree.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Reunion_

With all her nerves, she never would have dreamed it possible, but Sara fell asleep within minutes of taking off on her way back to Vegas. The emotional impact of her time with her father's family was finally taking its toll; she didn't wake until the plane was beginning its initial descent.

Sara stared out the window at the familiar landmarks that were coming closer and closer as the plane descended over the city that represented _home_ to her more than any other. Nervous energy shot through her at the thought of returning – and at the thought of what she had to face.

_It's a good thing I was asleep for most of the trip_. She knew there was no way she would have been able to deal with her nerves any way other than by sleeping. Even the meditation breathing that her mother had taught her would have been useless during her flight back to face Natalie.

The plane touched down, and a flight attendant gave permission for the passengers to use their cell phones. Sara took hers from her bag and called Grissom.

"Hi," he said as he answered, his smile carrying to her. "Where are you?"

"Taxiing to the gate," she replied. "Where are _you_?"

He chuckled. "Baggage claim. How was your flight?"

"I wouldn't know. I slept through most of it."

"Good," he said. "I want you wide awake when I see you."

"Really?" Sara asked coyly. "Why might that be?"

"Because we haven't had a chance to really _talk_ in ages," Grissom replied with feigned innocence. "Why would you think?"

"Gilbert, if all you want to do is _talk_ tonight …" Sara's threat trailed off into silence.

Grissom laughed. "My dear, there are _so many_ reasons I want you wide awake," he said in a deeper than usual voice.

"Good," Sara said, her own voice dropping. "I can think of a few myself."

The plane stopped, jarring gently. Sara looked up as her fellow passengers began to move.

"We're at the gate," she said. "I've got to get my stuff together. I'll be inside in a minute."

"Okay," Grissom said. "Sara … I'll see you when I see you."

Sara's smile lit up her face. "I'll see you when I see you," she repeated.

After putting her phone away, Sara stood to await her turn to deplane. She smiled slightly, thinking of her first trip with Grissom, when they had flown to Boston for Josie's baptism.

_Sara jumped up as soon as the plane stopped moving, standing with her head awkwardly bent to avoid banging it on the low ceiling under the overhead compartment. Grissom looked at her with an amused smile._

_"You know, we're going to be here awhile," he said. "We're in the middle of the plane."_

_"I don't care," Sara declared. She smiled at him. "In my head, I know you're right, and that it's smarter to sit and wait. But, I can't convince myself that it's a good idea."_

_Grissom smiled and shook his head. "Okay."_

_She scrunched up her nose at him. "Oh, leave me alone. You'd be excited if we were going to see _your_ college roommate."_

This time, it wasn't Mary Sara was excited to see, and she had a feeling that Grissom wouldn't mind her enthusiasm.

After waiting what felt like an eternity, Sara stepped off the plane. She walked down the jet way at a quick pace, and kept the same tempo through the airport to baggage claim. As she closed the distance between her arrival gate and Grissom, her nervousness melted away, replaced with anticipation. She couldn't wait to look into his blue, blue eyes again.

Grissom was standing almost at the bottom of the escalator as Sara descended into baggage claim. Her excited smile was mirrored on his face. As she stepped off the escalator, he opened his arms. She jumped into them, holding him as tightly as he held her.

Grissom pulled back to kiss her, his lips landing sloppily on hers in his rush. Sara giggled against him, and tilted her head to kiss him properly. She broke the kiss and leaned her forehead against his.

"I've missed you," she whispered.

"I've missed you, too," he replied. "I love you, Sara."

She grinned. "I love you, too."

"Come on," he said, releasing her. "Let's get your bags and get you out of here."

Sara smiled again and took his hand. "Sounds good to me."

They got her luggage quickly, and Grissom led her to his the parking lot and his waiting car.

"I thought we could go out for dinner tonight," Grissom said as they climbed into his car. "Are you hungry now? Do you want to go straight to a restaurant, or do you want to go home first?"

"I'm famished," Sara admitted.

Grissom smiled. "Okay, then. I was thinking we could go to that vegetarian restaurant you like so much. What was it called again?"

Panic like she hadn't experienced in weeks gripped Sara. _No … not there … please … I can't … _"Um … I'd rather try something new. Greg was telling me that there's a new place on the Strip that he loved."

"Yes," Grissom said with a smile. "He's been talking about it for a solid week. Would you like to give it a try?"

"Yes," Sara said, feeling relief seep through her. "That would be great."

Grissom smiled, and reached across to squeeze her hand. "I'm so glad you're home, honey."

Sara looked at him and forced a smile. For the first time since she had landed, she wasn't sure she was happy to be home at all.

* * *

The restaurant was exactly the sort of place Sara could see Greg loving. It was decorated in a style that harked back to the early days of Vegas, calling heavily upon his favorite period of history. Even the music was more big band than current hits.

Sara took inconspicuous deep breaths as she read the menu. She wanted to enjoy this restaurant. She wanted to leave behind the panic that was wrapped up in everything associated with Natalie.

Grissom ordered a bottle of wine; Sara raised her eyebrows. He generally reserved such grandeur for celebrations.

"It's not my birthday," she said.

He smiled. "It's still cause for celebration."

Sara raised an eyebrow in a questioning look.

"You're home," he said simply.

Sara exhaled and felt tears stinging her eyes. Her emotions were so muddled that she had no idea if she was happy to be in Las Vegas or not – but, she did know that she was happy to be with Grissom again.

"I love you," she whispered.

He smiled and took her hand, gently kissing her fingers. "I love _you_."

* * *

Sara felt quite mellow as she and Grissom left the restaurant. She held his hand, and reached across with her other hand to grab his arm. He smiled at her.

"My dear, I do believe you're tipsy."

She giggled. "Maybe a little." Her laughter faded. "Are you? Should we call a cab?"

"I'm fine," he replied. "I think this is a first – I've never seen you affected by alcohol faster than I am."

She giggled and poked his side. "I'm thinner than you – it's only fair."

"Hm."

"You haven't been to the gym without me here to make you go, have you?"

"I have to work, Sara."

"That's no excuse."

"Hm," he hummed again, opening her car door for her. "Come on, my drunken beauty. Let's get you home."

She was giggling again as he climbed behind the wheel. "Are you suggesting that you want to get me home so you can have your way with me?"

He chuckled. "That all depends on whether or not you're still awake when we get there."

"I'm tipsy, not drunk." She grinned. "And, I _really_ want get lucky with a sexy entomologist tonight."

Grissom blushed and cleared his throat. "Well, I guess that answers my next question."

"What's that?"

"I know that Catherine and the guys all wanted to see you, but I told them I wanted to see what you were up for before committing. So, I promised Catherine I'd call her if you wanted to get together with them."

Sara shook her head. "Uh-uh. The only thing I'm up for is you." She gave him a wicked grin. "And, I'm hoping you'll be up for me."

Grissom chuckled, blushing again. "Okay, then. We'll go home, and you can see everyone else tomorrow."

Sara settled back in her seat with a contented sigh. "Perfect."

* * *

When Sara awoke the next morning, she was tangled up in Grissom's arms and sheets. She giggled as she tried to extricate her legs from the mass of cotton that had encased them.

"What are you doing?"

Sara stopped and looked up at Grissom. "You're awake?"

"I wasn't until you started kicking me."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm stuck in the sheets."

Grissom laughed. "Well … it was a good evening."

Sara laughed with him. "Okay, enough with the ego. Just … help me get out of this web!"

Laughing even harder, Grissom slid away from her embrace and sat up to help Sara unwind the sheets that had trapped her.

"By the way, I'm sorry about what I said," Sara said.

Grissom frowned. "About my ego?"

"No," she said, chuckling. "Last night. About the gym."

Grissom smiled slightly. "Well, you're right. I _haven't_ been going regularly."

Sara shook her head. "It doesn't matter, baby. You're still unbelievably sexy – and, I'm _very_ happy to be in your bed."

He gave her a roguish grin. "Satisfied?"

"Very."

His eyes darkened as he leaned into her, pressing her against the mattress again. "Well …" He kissed her. "I want to make sure you stay that way."

Giggling, Sara pulled him closer.

* * *

"What do you want to do today?" Grissom asked much later.

"We're doing it," Sara replied, snuggling deeper into his arms.

Grissom chuckled. "As tempting as it sounds, I don't think we can spend the entire day in bed."

"Why not?" Sara asked. "It's what I want to do today." She leaned over him to plant a kiss on his chest. "We never get to do this anymore." A shadow passed over her eyes. "We haven't for a very, very long time."

Grissom pulled her tightly against him again, pressing a kiss against her hair. She was right, of course. They hadn't been able to spend a lazy day in bed since before Sara's move to swing shift.

"Is that a yes?" she asked hopefully.

"No," he said.

She popped up again to look at him, giving him a very calculated, pathetic, little girl look. "Please?"

He chuckled. "Don't even try with the eyes. Your magic won't work on me."

"Don't act like you're immune to my charms."

He laughed again. "Listen, I promised Catherine and the guys that we'd meet them for lunch today. We have to get up for that."

"We've got time before lunch," Sara said.

"I know. But, I thought that we could use our extra time to get Hank from the sitter."

Sara groaned and pulled away from him, rolling herself to the edge of the bed and sitting up. "God, Grissom. Only _you_ would turn down sex for a dog."

He laughed as he, too, sat up and climbed out of bed. "And, only _you_, my love, would agree to it."

* * *

Many of Sara's lingering doubts about being at home were banished by Hank's reaction to seeing her. The dog went into a frenzy, barking and jumping all over her. Sara laughed as she tried to simultaneously pet him and push him away. She finally gave up, and fell to her knees to hug his neck and shoulders.

"I've missed you, too, buddy," she said.

Grissom smiled. "Should we take him to the park?"

Sara nodded her agreement, still hugging and petting her dog.

* * *

The park was crowded with mothers and their young children when Sara, Grissom and Hank arrived. They walked with him on his leash for a long time, trying to find a more secluded part of the park to let him run.

"He likes children too much," Grissom sighed as Hank strained against his hold, trying to escape to join a game of catch that two preschoolers were playing.

"Well, Lauren plays with him quite a bit," Sara said, referencing their next door neighbor's daughter.

"Not to mention all the attention Lindsay gave him when he was a puppy," Grissom said. "And, now look at him – stuck spending all his time with adults."

Sara forced a laugh, thinking of the many, many times she had imagined having a child with Grissom. It had all seemed like such a wonderful idea, but now … "He'll get over it."

"Okay," Grissom said. "I think we can let him run." He unclipped the dog's leash from his collar.

Grinning, Sara took the ball out of her bag. "Hey, boy! Look what I have!"

Hank barked loudly, jumping into what Sara called his "playful stance."

Sara laughed and threw the ball. Hank took off at a run, grabbed the ball, and brought it back to her.

"You know, I think we should try teaching him to play Frisbee," Sara commented as she threw the ball again.

A thrill of excitement shot through Grissom. She was talking about the future … making plans … He didn't want to scare her with his enthusiasm. "Oh?"

"Yeah. I mean, he loves to jump. I'll bet he'd be good at it."

"Perhaps."

She smirked. "Not a good Frisbee player, are you, Griss?"

"I've played Frisbee golf with Lindsay," he replied staunchly.

"Oh? How did that go for you?"

"She beat me."

Sara laughed. "Thought so."

"But, remember, she knew what she was doing. I was just a beginner."

"Stop with the excuses."

He laughed and grabbed her to him, kissing her temple. "I'll teach you sometime, if you'd like."

Sara laughed. "I learned in college. I'd kick your ass."

"Well … we can still play."

Sara smiled and leaned into his embrace. "Sounds good to me."

* * *

Grissom kept a careful watch on the time, and made sure they left the park in time to take Hank home before meeting the team at Catherine's chosen restaurant.

"I've never been here before," Sara said as they pulled into the parking lot.

"Catherine picked it," Grissom replied. He smiled. "Greg _really_ wanted to go to Frank's, but Catherine thought we should do something a little classier."

Sara laughed. "What is it with Greg and Frank's?"

"That I don't know, but I am sure that we'll have at least one meal there with the team within the next few days."

Sara smiled. "You know, I'm glad. Going there with all of you … it brings back a lot of happy memories."

Grissom took her hand and kissed the back of it. "Come on. Let's go inside."

The team was already assembled when they walked into the restaurant; Greg waved them over to the table they had secured in the back. He was the first to greet Sara, pulling her into a tight hug.

"I've missed you," he said.

"I've missed you, too," she replied. "All of you."

Greg finally released her, and Warrick hugged her tightly. Catherine was next; she pulled back from the hug to look at Sara.

"You look pale," she said. "Have you been eating enough?"

"Yes, Mom," Sara said with a chuckle. "I've been in Pennsylvania for the past few weeks. Do you know what it's like there in the winter?"

Catherine shuddered. "Welcome home, Sara. Enjoy the sunshine."

With that advice, she moved aside so Nick could hug Sara. He held her a bit tighter and longer than the others, trying to somehow let her feel his support and strength.

"You look fine to me," he said when he finally released her. "Are you …?"

She nodded. "I'm getting there."

"Good." He squeezed her hand. "We'll talk more later."

She nodded her agreement, and she took her seat next to Grissom, even as Nick sat down across from her.

Conversation began almost immediately, jumping from one person to the next and from one topic to the next. Work was never discussed. The trial – Sara's reason for being there – was never discussed. No one pressed for details of her absence, her recovery, or her plans to return to Las Vegas permanently.

Sara breathed a sigh of relief as the meal progressed. She hadn't even been aware of her nerves about seeing her friends again until they were gone. There were just too many questions that she was sure they would want answered, but that she did not want to discuss. There were too many unknowns in her future that she hoped no one would bring up.

And, yet … none of her fears came to fruition. Nothing that had made her nervous with anticipation had actually happened.

She had a wonderful time with them. Their lunch together was a wonderful reminder of how much they meant to her, and how much she loved them.

Being with her family again was truly what made coming home to Vegas so special.


	27. Preparations

A/N: This is about half of the chapter I set out to write. But, it got way longer than anticipated, so you'll see the conclusion soon. I hope you enjoy it.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration is borrowed from the majority of season 7 and some of season 8. Minimal dialogue is borrowed from 724, "Living Doll."

* * *

_Preparations_

Sara spent three days in a state of suspended happiness. She woke up in Grissom's arms each morning, spent each day with him and their friends, and fell asleep in his arms at night. She could not have asked for anything more.

After three days, however, Grissom returned to work. Sara readjusted her sleeping schedule to match his, hoping to spend more time with him. Grissom, for his part, flat out refused to work beyond his scheduled shift end. It was a first; but the team, knowing exactly why he wanted to get home on time, was willing to pick up the slack.

As he walked in after work on the fourth morning, Grissom knew that his steps were a bit slower than usual. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Sara – it was that he hated the news he had to deliver.

"Hey," he said as he walked into the kitchen, where she was preparing breakfast.

"Hi," she said, turning her face up for a kiss. She smiled. "I think I need a part-time job. I'm making fresh squeezed orange juice. This is a certain sign of having too much time on my hands."

Grissom smiled. "Sara, we need to talk."

His tone alone was enough to frighten her. She turned to him with wide eyes. "What's wrong?"

He sighed and sat down at the table. She sat down across from him and looked at him expectantly.

"Valerie Nichols called me today."

A hint of panic jumped into Sara's eyes.

"She wants to talk to you, Sara. The trial starts in a week and a half, and …" He cleared his throat. "Honey, you're Valerie's star witness."

The color drained out of Sara's face.

"She said she'd call you to make an appointment, but I thought … I wasn't sure if you'd want to call her first, or …"

Sara nodded slowly. "Will you come with me?"

"If you'd like."

She nodded again. "I don't think I can do this alone."

"Sara." He reached across for her hands. "You are the strongest woman I've ever met. You can do this. I know you can."

Tears gathered in her eyes. "I hope so, Gil. I really, really hope so."

* * *

Sara waited until Grissom was asleep before calling Valerie. For some reason she couldn't explain, she wanted to do it alone. As she listened to the phone ring, Sara tried to think of what she would say to the woman who, more than anyone aside from Grissom and the rest of the team, wanted to make sure that Natalie was truly punished for what she had done to Sara and to all those other innocent people.

"This is Valerie Nichols."

Sara drew a deep breath. "Valerie, hi. This is Sara Sidle."

"Sara." Relief colored Valerie's voice. "Hi. Did you make it back to Vegas safely?"

"Yes," Sara replied. "It's good to be back."

"Well, I know we're all glad to have you." She cleared her throat. "Listen, Sara, I don't know how much Gil has told you, but –"

"He told me that I need to testify against Natalie Davis," Sara interrupted, wanting to save Valerie from the trouble of an explanation – and herself from listening to it.

"He did," Valerie said. "Good. Well, you and I need to get together – get all our ducks in a row. You know how it is."

"Yeah," Sara said quietly. "I know."

"Good. Can you come to my office?"

"Sure," Sara agreed. "When?"

"The sooner the better."

Sara nodded her agreement. She wanted this over as quickly as possible. "Tomorrow afternoon? Two o'clock, maybe?"

"Perfect. I'll see you then."

"See you then," Sara echoed.

She hung up the phone and stared at it for a long minute. Then, she went to their bedroom and crawled into bed with the sleeping Grissom.

She had barely made it into bed when he reached for her, pulling her into his warm embrace. Sara, thinking he was acting in sleep, snuggled against him and sighed.

"How did it go with Valerie?"

She gasped and looked up into his face to see him looking down at her. "I thought you were asleep!"

He smiled slightly and traced his fingers over her cheek. "How could I possibly sleep alone?"

She caught his hand and kissed his fingers.

"So," he prompted, "what did she say?"

"She wants to meet with me," Sara admitted. "We have an appointment for two o'clock tomorrow afternoon."

Grissom nodded. "I have court, but I'll come home right after and drive you."

"You don't have to do that," Sara protested.

"I know," he said. "I want to." He hugged her even tighter. "I promised you wouldn't have to go through this alone, Sara. I meant it."

She pressed her cheek against his chest. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

Valerie's office was just as Sara remembered. Her methodical organization had always appealed to Sara; she found a certain comfort in it and relaxed almost immediately. Grissom, walking into the office just behind her, noticed the release across her shoulders. He put his hand on the small of her back and leaned close to her.

"You okay?"

She nodded.

"Sara, Gil," Valerie greeted them, standing up from behind her desk. "It's good to see you both."

"Hi," Sara said.

"Hello, Valerie," Grissom said.

"Please, sit down."

They sat down side by side across the desk from her. She picked up the top file from the bin on her desk and flipped it open.

"Okay," she said. "So, we're charging Natalie with four counts of first degree murder and one count of attempted homicide. We're using the miniatures as evidence of premeditation."

Grissom nodded. "Right."

"We're going to use Dr. Robbins to describe cause and manner of death, and CSIs to describe the scenes and evidence." She looked up at Grissom. "You worked all the cases, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay, well, choose your favorite. I'm only letting you testify on one scene."

Grissom frowned.

"Look, Grissom, you're a very likeable, knowledgeable witness. But, I can't let this become a personal vendetta. And, if you're on the stand over and over again, that's how it could come across. I will let you speak to all five cases when you begin, if you'd like."

"_Five_ cases?" Sara asked. "There were only four …" She trailed off in horror, realizing that the last miniature had depicted _her_ death. "Oh."

Valerie gave her a sympathetic look, and Grissom reached across to cover her hand with his. She flipped her palm up to grip his hand, squeezing it for a moment before releasing it. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

"Let me know which scene you want to make yours to shine on, Grissom, and you can have it," Valerie said.

"Okay," he agreed.

"Just one thing," Valerie said slowly.

"What?"

"Don't take this the wrong way …"

Grissom rolled his eyes. "Out with it, Valerie."

"Don't choose the last scene – Sara's scene."

He frowned. "Why?"

"I don't want to bring your personal relationship into the courtroom."

Grissom's frown deepened. "Valerie –"

"I'll understand if you sit together," she said quickly. "Hold her hand through the entire thing if you want, but when you two are on the stand, you are colleagues who worked together to stop a serial killer."

Grissom exhaled and nodded. "Okay."

"Sara?"

Sara nodded. "It's just …"

"Go ahead."

"In my … abduction, my personal relationship with Grissom was motive. Natalie all but told me that herself."

"That's why I don't want Grissom testifying about your abduction," Valerie said. "Let Catherine do it. She'll be the most diplomatic, and make it as clear as she can without saying the words."

"Okay," Grissom said.

"While we're on that, you'll need to give me a list of which of your team you want to testify on the others."

Grissom nodded, her words snapping him back into "all business" mode. "I can do that. Also, I'm sure that my contact at the model shop will be willing to testify to how long it would take to build a miniature like the ones Natalie left us. He can help to speak to premeditation."

"Excellent. Is he the one whose name and number are in the file?"

"Yes."

"Good." She turned to Sara. "And, you, Sara," she said, "will testify about what Natalie did to you."

Sara nodded. "Yeah. I figured."

"Sara," she said gently, "I'm going to walk you through the entire thing in court. As much as you remember, we'll discuss. So …what is the first thing you remember from that night?"

Sara took a deep breath. "I was in the parking garage," she said. "I was walking to my car … distracted." She gave Grissom an apologetic smile. "I was talking to Grissom. He had called to tell me that they had an ID on the Miniature Killer." Her smile twisted. "Ironic, huh?" She took another deep breath. "I was … at my car. I think … I think I opened the trunk. I heard someone say my name …" She closed her eyes for a moment.

"_Sara?"_

_Without thinking, Sara looked up at the sound of her name. She turned, but barely had time to register the thin woman before a bright light illuminated her chest. Before she had a chance to realize what it meant, Taser barbs were in her chest, sending unimaginable pain through her. She fell to the ground, shaking uncontrollably._

_Everything went black._

"She … Tasered me. The next thing I remember is waking up in the trunk of her car."

"Okay," Valerie said quietly. "Okay. That's where we'll start in court."

Sara nodded.

"And, you'll be able to identify Natalie? You did see her face? You know, beyond all reasonable doubt, that she is the one who did this to you?"

"Yes," Sara said with utter confidence. "Yes, it was her."

"Good." She smiled at them both. "This is a slam dunk."

"There is … one thing," Sara said.

"Yes?"

"I did … attack Natalie. I slammed her head into the car window … I …"

"Sara," Valerie interrupted. "It was self-defense. You know that."

"I do," Sara agreed. "I'm just not sure it'll come across to the jury exactly as it should."

"How could it not?" Valerie said. "You just said that she Tasered you. She locked you in her trunk! You are fully entitled to fight for your life."

"It's just …" She shrugged. "She's this little woman, and I'm in law enforcement. Won't it look like … an uneven fight?"

"No," Valerie said at once. "She may be small, but she's powerful. She murdered four people that we know of, and she would have murdered you, too. Don't you dare underestimate your will to survive, Sara. It's what beat Natalie. And, if the defense wants to try to spin it that you were beating up on some frail woman, I will certainly object." She paused. "I'm not trying to be mean, but, Sara, at the end of the day, _she_ wasn't the one trapped under a car."

* * *

Grissom and Sara walked out of the DA's office building hand-in-hand. They went straight to Grissom's car; he opened Sara's door for her. She climbed in and waited for him to get behind the wheel.

"It wasn't as bad as I thought," she said as Grissom backed out of the parking space.

"It wasn't?"

"No," she said. "I expected …" She shrugged. "I guess I expected far worse."

"It was just the beginning, Sara," Grissom said gently. "When you do this in court, you'll have to go over the whole thing. And, when the defense gets you …"

"I know," she said. "But, you'll be there. It won't be the end of the world."

Grissom felt as though, with those words, the sun shone a little brighter. "Good," he said with feeling. "Good."

"I'm not sure how I feel about her directive to leave the personal stuff out of it," Sara admitted.

"Honey, it's no more or less than what we've done from the beginning. We've always kept our personal relationship out of the lab."

She smiled. "Until you blew the whistle on us."

"Yes. Until then."

Sara reached across to put her hand on his knee. "Gil … I told you when it happened that I was glad you had told them, and I still am. I like not hiding. It's … easier."

"Yeah," he said, turning briefly to smile at her, "I guess it is.

Sara cleared her throat. "So, what do you want to do this evening?"

"I'm not sure," Grissom said. "But, do you mind if we stop at the lab right now? When I left, I forgot to pick up a file that I need."

"Sure," Sara agreed.

Grissom turned down a side street for a shortcut, and they soon found themselves in the lab's parking lot. He turned off the car and turned to her.

"Do you want to come in with me?"

Sara nodded. "I think … I need to."

He nodded. "Let's go."

They walked into the lab together, Grissom holding the door open for Sara. She followed him to his office, trying to ignore the shocked stares of the day shift CSIs and techs.

"This is awkward," she muttered as they went into his office.

"What is?" Grissom asked, already sifting through the papers on his desk for the one he needed.

"Everyone's staring at me."

"No, they aren't."

"Yes, they are."

Grissom smiled. "It must be because you're so beautiful."

"Or because I ran out of here without a goodbye to anyone almost four months ago."

Grissom waved his hand dismissively. "It's day shift. They barely know what's going on with their own team, let alone ours."

Sara finally smiled. "That's just because they're such a revolving door that they don't even know half the people _on_ their team."

Grissom chuckled. "There's that. Okay, this is the one I needed. Ready to go?"

Her _yes_ was at the tip of Sara's tongue when she stopped and looked around. She hadn't been in Grissom's office since November. Her eyes fell on his fetal pig.

"I see Miss Piggy still has her place of honor."

Grissom smiled. "But, of course."

"Any new creepy-crawlies to show me since I left?"

"Well … since you asked …"

Grissom immediately began a tour, showing her his newest cockroaches (_I'm going to train them as racers!_) and the ant farm that Lindsey had given him for Christmas (_I'm still not sure if it was a joke or not …_). He also pulled out pictures of his bee colony.

"I'd take you to see it, but I don't want you to get stung again," he said earnestly.

"Hey," she said with a smile, "I didn't mind."

"You didn't?"

She shook her head. "It was … such a happy moment."

His eyes began to glow. "For me, too."

"Gil, I, um … I know we haven't talked about it at all since I … left, but …" She paused, struggling for the right words. "Someday, when things are normal again – well, as normal as they'll ever be for us – I do …" Her face flushed. "I still want to marry you."

"Sara," he whispered.

She held her breath, waiting for him to continue.

"I've wanted to marry you since the day we met. Waiting a little longer isn't going to hurt me."

A beaming smile broke out across her face. "Yeah?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

This time, when they leaned toward each other for a kiss, there were no helmets to block their path. It was a short, chaste kiss – Grissom was still an employee in his office, after all, even if Sara had left the lab – but, it promised so much.

For the first time since Grissom had proposed, Sara could see a bright future ahead of her.

* * *

They walked out of Grissom's office a moment later. Grissom held the file he had come to retrieve. A secretive smile played on Sara's lips.

"You need to stop smiling," Grissom whispered.

"Why?"

"You look … suspicious."

Sara giggled. "What's wrong? Are you afraid everyone will think we got it on in your office?"

"Yes."

She laughed outright. "Weren't you the one who always wanted to?"

He smiled. "My dear, I wanted to do it, not to make everyone think we had done it. There is a difference."

Sara laughed again.

"Oh, my God! _Sara_!"

Sara and Grissom both stopped and turned as Ronnie came flying toward them from down the hall. She flung her arms around Sara in a tight hug.

"Oh, my God! It's really you! I've missed you _so_ much! Are you back? Please, tell me you're back! Swing is _not_ the same without you. I'm the _only_ woman. The _only one_! I _need_ you!"

Sara smiled. "Good to see you haven't lost your enthusiasm, Ronnie."

"Does that mean you're coming back to CSI?"

Sara shook her head. "I'm just here to testify in a trial."

"Oh."

"Hey," Sara said, watching the disappointment flood Ronnie's face, "I know you can do this without me. You were doing great without me when I was still here."

Ronnie frowned. "But, we always worked together."

"And, you weren't afraid to challenge me. You can think for yourself, Ronnie. And, you've got great instincts. Go with them."

Ronnie nodded.

"Just … be careful, okay? I know you have a big heart, and I know from experience exactly how difficult that can be on this job. Make sure you … don't lose perspective."

Ronnie nodded. "Hey, I need to go clock in, but … since you're back, could we do lunch?"

"Yeah, I'd like that," Sara said, shocked by how much she would like it. "Do you still have the same cell phone?"

Ronnie nodded.

"I'll call you."

"Great!" Ronnie hugged Sara again. "I'll see you soon!"

Ronnie took off to clock in, and Grissom put his hand on the small of Sara's back to steer her out of the building.

"You always said she was enthusiastic," he said with a chuckle.

"Yeah," Sara said. "I just didn't realize until now how much I missed her."

* * *

That night, as Sara slept, she found her dreams taking her back to the lab. She wandered the halls while unknown CSIs and techs stared at her. She felt more and more uncomfortable, and walked faster and faster until she was running flat-out. She ran down the hall until it changed. She wasn't in the lab anymore. She was in the hallway of her high school, where unknown students were staring and pointing as she ran by. She knew, without hearing a word, that they were mocking her – the girl whose mother had killed her father. She ran and ran until she was outside. Rain was pouring down, washing up around her in a flood, trapping her –

She woke with a gasp. She was safe in her bed with Grissom. She snuggled closer to him, waiting for him to pull him to her in his sleep like he had done after every nightmare she had had in the past.

As she had expected, his arms came around her. Unexpectedly, his lips brushed across the top of her head.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

Sara tilted her head to look into his face. "What time is it? Do you have to go to work?"

"No …" He kissed her again.

Guilt raced through her. "Did I wake you?"

"I'm not used to sleeping with someone else anymore," he said evasively.

"Well, good," she said. "I don't want you sleeping with someone else. But … I'm sorry if I woke you."

"I'm not." He sighed. "I'm just sorry I slept through your nightmares before."

Tears filled her eyes.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head. "I just want to feel your arms around me and know that it's over."

Grissom held her even tighter. "I can do that."

"Good." She sighed. "That's all I need."

Grissom pressed another kiss against her hair. _Oh, God, Sara, I wish I could believe you. I wish that could be true._ He tightened his hold even more. _I wish I knew how to help you._


	28. The Trial

A/N: This was hugely emotional for me to write, which is why it took so long. Thanks for reading, reviewing, and your patience. I hope you enjoy this one!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_The Trial_

Sara's hands shook as she tried to clasp her necklace. After three failed attempts, she gave up. She carried the piece of jewelry into the living room, where Grissom was waiting for her.

"I can't do it," she said, holding out her necklace and giving him a pathetic look.

He smiled. "Drop the face. It's unnecessary. And, turn around."

Smiling slightly, Sara turned and lifted her hair so he could clasp the necklace around her neck. He planted a kiss against her skin.

"Are you nervous?"

Sara dropped her hair and turned to face him. "Would you believe me if I said no?"

He shook his head. "No."

Sara gave him a small smile. "Didn't think so."

"You're going to be fine," Grissom said. "You've testified in court so many times. You just have to think of it as any other trial."

Sara nodded slightly. "It's not, you know. It won't be. It _can't_ be."

Grissom sighed. "I know."

The clock chimed.

"Come on," Sara said. "Let's go. We don't want to be late."

* * *

The courtroom was still and quiet when they arrived. Valerie Nichols and Catherine were the only ones there; they were standing at the prosecutor's table, talking quietly. They both looked up when Grissom and Sara entered the room.

"Hello," Valerie said as they approached. She looked at Sara critically. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Sara replied.

"Catherine's going right before you," Valerie said. "She'll speak to the case itself, the miniature … then, I'll have you describe your experience."

Sara nodded.

"I'll give you a good intro," Catherine promised with a hint of a smile.

"I know you will," Sara said. "I'm glad it's going to be you."

Catherine squeezed her arm and stepped closer. "You can do this," she nearly whispered.

Sara nodded. "I don't have much choice, do I?"

Catherine looked into her eyes for a moment. "You are the strongest person I've ever known," she said quietly. "It wouldn't matter if you had a choice. You'd do it either way."

Catherine's words had the desired effect; Sara suddenly felt stronger. She could do this – not because she _had_ to, but because she _wanted_ to. She had spent a decade working to make the cities she lived in safer. If it was in her power to help make Las Vegas safer by making sure that Natalie was behind bars, then that was what she would do – no matter what it took to do it.

Grissom sensed the shift in her emotions and looked at her. She smiled at him. Reading the difference in her eyes, he relaxed. She was finally seeing it for what it was at the surface – just another trial.

People began arriving, and they took their seats. Sara sat between Catherine and Grissom, watching as others filed into the room. Nick, Warrick and Greg arrived together; they sat down on the other side of Catherine, all giving Sara cheerful smiles.

"You ready?" Nick asked, leaning across Catherine to talk to Sara.

Sara nodded. "Bring it."

Nick grinned. "That's my girl."

"Hey," Brass said as he sat down on the other side of Grissom. "How are you holding up, Sara?"

"Fine," she said.

He winked at her. "Just a little longer, and it'll all be over."

"Right," Sara said, exhaling. _It'll never all be over_.

The conversations in the courtroom died away as attention shifted to the defendant being led to her seat. Sara's entire body clenched; she grabbed Grissom's hand with a ferocity that almost frightened him. He glanced at her, and held her hand tightly. He inched as close to her as he could without actually moving his chair; she leaned toward him until their shoulders were touching. He tilted his head toward her.

"Okay?" he whispered.

Sara shook her head mutely. Grissom tightened his grip on her hand.

They were asked to rise as the judge entered the room. Sara barely heard the command; she would have stayed seated if Grissom had not pulled her to her feet. Once they were seated again, Grissom shifted toward Sara.

"Honey, you've got to calm down," he whispered. "She can't hurt you now."

Sara nodded. "I know. I know."

Grissom squeezed her hand again, and she reached across with her other hand so that both of hers could wrap around his. She exhaled slowly, and closed her eyes, trying to find her inner balance again.

Both attorneys gave their opening arguments, but Sara barely heard them. It wasn't until Valerie called Grissom to the stand that she came back into the moment; she had to let go of his hand so he could get up to testify.

Almost as soon as he had gone, Nick sat down next to her, taking her hand as Grissom had. It wasn't the same, but it was a great comfort.

"Dr. Grissom, you and your department have investigated five homicides or attempted homicides that were accompanied by miniatures of the crime scenes, is that correct?" Valerie asked once Grissom had been sworn in.

She used a wireless clicker to scan through images of all five miniatures for the court to see. Sara stiffened as _her_ miniature dominated the screen. Nick looked at her with concern.

"Yes, that is correct," Grissom agreed.

"Tell us how you discovered the first miniature."

"I was called to the scene of Izzy Delancy's murder," Grissom said as Valerie clicked back to the first miniature. "The miniature was sitting on the kitchen counter, near the body."

"And, this miniature was an exact replica of the crime scene?"

"Yes." Grissom took the offered clicker and began showing photos of the crime scene and the miniature to illustrate his words. "The victim had been killed at his breakfast table by blunt force trauma to the head. We were able to determine that the murder weapon was a marble rolling pin. We found a bloody rolling pin both in the kitchen drawer, as well as in the drawer of the miniature. Both had been wiped clean. We also noted that the suspect stayed to watch the blood pool at the victim's feet after hitting him over the head; the blood pool in the miniature was an exact model of it."

"How do you know the killer stayed to watch the blood pool?"

"There is no way to predict a blood pool. They are all inherently random. Without staying to watch it form, there is no way of knowing how it will look. The pool in the miniature was also created using the victim's own blood."

"Where you able to solve this case immediately? Make an arrest?"

"No," Grissom admitted. "There was not enough evidence left at the crime scene to determine the identity of the killer."

"I see. How, then, did we get to this point of having a trial?"

"This was only the first miniature we found. After the second appeared, we realized we were dealing with a serial killer."

"Now, your colleagues will speak to individual crime scenes, but I do want to ask you to speak about the process by which the serial killer was identified."

"Our first real suspect in the case was a man named Ernie Dell," Grissom said. "We used a security tape to identify him as the man who dropped off the miniature of the second crime scene."

"And, you interrogated Mr. Dell?"

"Yes."

"Did he confess?"

"Not during the interrogation, no."

"But, you did receive a confession?"

Grissom's eyes closed briefly. He had a feeling Ernie Dell's confession would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"_Want to grab dinner? It'll be a little while before Brass gets Ernie back here. We've got time before he'll need you."_

_He didn't, really – the act of eating seemed like an awful lot at the moment –, but he knew that he should. "Okay."_

"_I just need to clean up my stuff and grab my purse. Meet you back here?"_

_Grissom nodded. "Okay."_

_Sara started to walk out, then paused in the doorway. "Gil – I'll see you when I see you."_

_He nodded and coaxed forth a smile. "I'll see you when I see you."_

_Once Sara was gone, Grissom forced himself out of his chair. He walked around to the front of his desk, leaning on it while he waited for her to return. His email alert split the silence of his dim office. Deciding to check the message before leaving with Sara, he sat back down. _

_The message was from Ernie Dell. The subject line was a stated confession to the three murders. The message was a link to a live video. Grissom clicked the link._

_Ernie Dell could be seen adjusting his webcam. He straightened up. _

"_My name is Ernest Edward Dell," he said. "I was born in 1946, in Ames, Iowa. My life has been hard, but I don't complain. I never expected it to be better." He picked up a cup of tea. "I'm good with my hands – I make things, I fix things. I'm a handyman; it's what I am. _

"_A man has a right to an honest day's pay. Me, I service the machinery of death so that people can eat. If that makes me evil, then so be it." He paused to take a sip of his tea. _

"_I'm not the sociable type; I know that. Spend any amount of time around people, you get your heart broke. Treachery … hypocrisy … the promise of love. Look into the mouth of a person, and you'll find lies, wriggling there like maggots waiting to grow wings. The world has gone mad. A man could kill from sun up to sunset, and, still, his work would never be done." _

_He reached down again; Grissom assumed he was going to take another sip of his tea. Nothing could have prepared him for the next three seconds. Ernie straightened up with a gun in his hand and, without a moment's hesitation, put it under his chin and shot himself. _

_Grissom jumped, horror filling him. He could hear the voices of the SWAT team as they hurried through the house; within a moment, two of them were on the screen, trying fruitlessly to help Ernie. _

_Grissom was still staring at the screen when Sara walked back into his office. _

"Yes," Grissom finally said, opening his eyes again. "He emailed me a link to a webcam video of his confession."

"And, at the end of that confession?"

"He committed suicide."

"At that time, how many miniature cases had you investigated?"

"Three."

"But, there were still more to come."

"Yes. We were all surprised by the fourth miniature."

"So, Ernie Dell was not responsible for _any_ of the deaths you had investigated?"

"No. The fourth miniature came with a message, telling us that we had been wrong." He clicked to the next picture, this one of the tiny images of the doll with the words _YOU WERE WRONG_ painted on them.

"Thank you, Dr. Grissom. I have no further questions at this time."

The judge nodded to the defense. Mr. Monroe stood.

"We have no questions for Dr. Grissom at this time, but request the right to recall him later."

The judge nodded, then looked back at Valerie. "Next witness?"

Nick left Sara's side as Grissom returned, reclaiming his place holding her hand. She gave him a slight smile, and squeezed his arm with her free hand.

"Good job," she whispered.

Grissom smiled back. "Now, it's Greg's turn."

Greg was called to the stand, and spoke of going through Ernie Dell's belongings and accounts to find his son. Sofia was called next; she described interviewing Lionel Dell and going through the foster system until they were able to find Natalie. Hodges explained the connection between the crime scenes, the victims, the suspect and bleach. Natalie's biological father took the stand to describe her childhood trauma, her dead sister, and his use of bleach to clean the blood on their sidewalk. A psychiatrist who had worked with Natalie was called to explain her particular psychosis and its connection to bleach and her past.

"We must remember," Valerie told the jury, "that while this process of discovering Natalie Davis' identity was going on, other murders were being attempted. I'd like to let another member of the CSI team describe the final murder Natalie Davis attempted to commit. The prosecution calls Catherine Willows to the stand."

Catherine gave Sara an encouraging smile, then went to the stand. She was sworn in, then looked at Valerie expectantly.

"Ms. Willows, there were five miniatures created, correct?"

"Yes."

"Were they all left at the crime scenes, like the one that Dr. Grissom described?"

"No," Catherine said. "The first, Izzy Delancy's, was left at the crime scene. The second was delivered to the crime scene after the fact."

"Why?"

"We believe that the victim, Penny Garden, did not die as expected. The liquid nicotine that was slipped into her drink caused a violent reaction; she ended up smashing through a window before she died. The miniature was delivered to the house a few days later; we believe that the suspect was compelled to correct it before we could see it." She clicked to a new picture. "Here, you can see glue on the back of the doll, and on the chair. She has been moved."

"Indeed," Valerie said. "Was this the only one delivered after the fact?"

"The fourth was delivered prior to the murder," Catherine said. "The fifth was also delivered."

"The fifth," Valerie said. She clicked the image of the tiny flipped Mustang on the screen again. "This scene shows the attempted murder of Sara Sidle, one of your colleagues."

"Yes," Catherine said.

"Where was it delivered?"

"To Dr. Grissom's office at CSI."

"Why to his office?"

"This was the second miniature to be delivered to his office," Catherine said. "With the delivery of the fourth miniature, we knew that it had become personal."

"Why?"

"Ernie Dell knew what Natalie Davis had done to the first three victims," Catherine said. "He confessed and killed himself to take the blame away from her – even though, at that point, she wasn't a suspect. He had seen pictures of the miniatures during interrogation, and recognized them as hers.

"After his suicide, Natalie blamed Dr. Grissom for her foster father's death. She made it personal by delivering the fourth miniature to him to tell him that he had been wrong. She then sought revenge by attempting to kill Sara." She paused. "Our team is very close – like a family. Hurting one of them was the best way to get to Dr. Grissom."

"Why Sara? Why not another member of the team?"

"They share a special relationship," Catherine said a bit evasively. "Natalie knew that Sara's death would hurt him more than anyone else's on the team."

_Well played, Cath_, Sara thought.

Catherine continued on, describing the miniature, the revelation that Natalie worked in their building, and the frantic search for Sara.

"Thank you, Ms. Willows," Valerie finally said. "I have no further questions."

Mr. Monroe again declined to question her at that moment. Valerie was free to call her next witness.

"The prosecution calls Sara Sidle to the stand," she said.

Grissom gave her hand one last squeeze before letting Sara get up. She barely controlled her shaking as she made her way to the stand, but calmed down as she was sworn in. The familiar ceremony eased her nerves.

"Ms. Sidle, after listening to Ms. Willows describe what you went through, let me say how glad we are to see you in court today."

Sara smiled slightly. Valerie truly looked shaken by Catherine's account.

"I'm going to ask for your perspective on that same night," Valerie said. "Please tell us what you remember, with as much detail as possible."

"I was on my way to work," Sara said. "I had stopped for dinner, and was going back to my car – I was parked in a parking structure at a strip mall. I was … talking to Dr. Grissom on my cell phone. He had called to tell me that they had identified the Miniature Killer, and to ask me to come to work as soon as possible. We finished our conversation right before I got to my car. I think I opened the trunk before I heard someone say my name."

Sara paused and took a deep breath. "I turned around, and almost immediately was hit with a Taser."

"Did you see who hit you?"

"No," Sara admitted. "It happened too quickly."

Valerie nodded. "Continue."

"The next thing I remember is waking up in a trunk," Sara said. "My hands were tied behind my back with a zip tie, and one of the Taser barbs was still in my vest. I used it to break the zip tie. My only thought was that I had to get out of the trunk. I used the emergency latch to open it, but the car was moving too fast to jump out." She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. "There was a speaker that was loose. I pulled it out, and released the back seat so I could get into the cabin of the car."

"And, at this point, could you see who had abducted you?"

"Yes," Sara said firmly.

"And, who was it?"

"Natalie Davis."

Valerie nodded. "At this point, where you able to escape?"

"I attempted to," Sara said. "I … tried to gain control of the car. But, Natalie was too strong … I couldn't get the wheel away from her. Once she had slowed down enough, I tried to jump out, but only injured myself more. Natalie came back, picked me up, and put me back in the car. She gave me water that something in it to make me drowsy, and drove me out into the desert."

"Once you were there, what happened?"

"She lowered a car onto me."

"This car?" Valerie showed pictures of the totaled Mustang.

"Yes."

"Did it crush you?"

"No. It pinned my feet and arms so I could not escape easily."

"What did she do then?"

"_Natalie?" she asked, feeling panic rise in her again. "Natalie, what are you doing?"_

_She looked around wildly, and realized exactly what was happening. A car was being lowered down on her. She was going to be crushed. _

"_Natalie? What are you doing?" she asked again. She screamed in pain as her broken arm was trapped under the car. "Don't do this!"_

_The car reached the ground and stopped moving. Aside from her arm, Sara wasn't being crushed by it. Natalie gave a satisfied smile, and turned to walk away._

"_Natalie?" Sara exclaimed, realizing that her captor was leaving her with no means of escape. "Natalie! _Natalie_!"_

_Natalie climbed into her car and drove away. _

"She left." Tears filled Sara's eyes, but she determinedly blinked them away. "I yelled for her to come back, not to do this, but she left."

"So, Natalie Davis used a Taser on you, trapped you in a trunk, drugged you, pinned you under a car, and left you in the desert?"

"Yes."

"To die."

Sara nodded. "Yes," she nearly whispered.

"But, you got out."

Sara nodded. "Catherine always says that I'm a fighter, a survivor – I couldn't let myself die. Not like that." She caught Nick's eyes. "Not that night."

Nick's eyes were suddenly over-bright. He worked on swallowing.

"So, once you escaped from the car, where did you go?"

"I honestly have no idea," Sara replied. "I wandered through the desert, hoping that I was on a path that would take me to a city or a town or a highway … anywhere that I could find someone. I didn't have any way of telling my team where I was, or that I was looking for them."

"Did you achieve that?"

"No. I collapsed before I made it that far. But, two members of my team, Nick Stokes and Sofia Curtis, found me." She swallowed. "They saved me."

"Thank you, Ms. Sidle. I have no further questions."

The judge nodded. "Mr. Monroe?"

He stood up and walked toward Sara. "Ms. Sidle, you spoke of attempting to gain control of the car while you were being driven into the desert. Is this true?"

"Yes," Sara said. She had expected this argument, and remembered what Valerie had said before.

"Is it also true that you spent a portion of your life in foster care?"

A cold shiver ran down Sara's spine. She had not expected _that_. "Yes," she said slowly.

"Why is that? Were you abused?"

Tears once again filled her eyes. "Yes," she nearly whispered.

"Physically?"

"Yes."

"Verbally? Emotionally?"

"Yes."

"By whom?"

She drew a deep breath. "My father."

"And, where is he now?"

"He … died."

"Isn't it true that he is dead because your mother killed him?"

All the color drained out of Sara's face. "Yes," she whispered.

"So … it would be safe to say that both of your parents were _violent_ people."

"Objection!" Valerie said before Sara could even collect herself enough to answer.

"Sustained. She is not responsible for the sins of her parents, Mr. Monroe."

He nodded. "Ms. Sidle, how tall are you?"

Sara looked surprised at the topic change. "Five foot nine," she said.

"Five foot nine," Mr. Monroe repeated. "Do you know how tall Ms. Davis is?"

"No."

"Five foot four," he said. He studied her. "Do you work out?"

"Yes," she said cautiously.

"And, you work in law enforcement?"

"Yes."

"So, you've been trained in all sorts of defense, including weaponless?"

"Yes," Sara said again.

He nodded. "So, you are asking us to believe that you merely _attempted_ to overpower Ms. Davis? Wouldn't it be more accurate to say that you _attacked_ her? That you displayed a certain … _violence_ toward her?"

"I –"

"Objection!" Valerie said. "Your Honor, Mr. Monroe just mentioned _defense_, not _offense_. Ms. Sidle had already been Tasered and locked in a trunk. To suggest that she was _attacking_ anyone is ridiculous. She was fighting for her life. She is entitled to defend herself." She looked disgusted. "He's blaming the victim."

"Sustained. Try a new track, Mr. Monroe."

He nodded. "We've listened to you colleagues speak to motive, Ms. Sidle. Mr. Hodges explained that your serial killer's psychotic breaks were associated with bleach. What is there to connect you both to Ms. Davis and to bleach?"

"Nothing," Sara said, feeling more and more miserable by the moment, but trying desperately to hang on to her professional demeanor. "Nothing that I know of."

"So, then, Ms. Willows was right when she spoke of Ms. Davis wanting to use you to exact some sort of revenge against Dr. Grissom?"

"I obviously wasn't allowed to work that case, Mr. Monroe. You'd have to ask Ms. Willows."

Grissom and Catherine glanced at each other, barely hiding their smiles. With that answer, they knew their Sara was back.

"But, surely, Natalie mentioned something to you while you drove together in the car into the desert …"

"_We actually have a lot in common," Sara continued, wondering vaguely if Grissom and Greg would appreciate her renewed attempts to befriend this woman. "I was a foster kid, too." _

_This captured Natalie's attention; she looked back at Sara again._

"_Happy, happy, joy, joy," Sara said. Her face twisted with painful memories of her past. "I do know what it's like to be alone. Afraid that nobody's ever going to be there for you."_

"_Ernie was," Natalie nearly whispered._

"_Yes, he was," Sara agreed. "That's true, Natalie." She paused. "I lost my father, too," she confessed. It wasn't exactly the same, but still … "I know that Ernie loved you," Sara continued. "He would not have wanted you to do this."_

"_Ernie loved me more than Grissom could ever love you," Natalie said._

"_Grissom?" Sara repeated. Suddenly, everything slid into place. Grissom had taken Ernie from Natalie, so Natalie would take Sara from Grissom. "Oh, I know what this is about," she said, her eyes sliding closed. She struggled to open them, but found her vision blurring. "Natalie? What did you put in the water, Natalie? Huh?" _

_Again, she succumbed to blackness._

"Ms. Sidle?" Mr. Monroe prompted.

"Like Catherine said," Sara said. "She knew that Grissom and I are close. She wanted to hurt him, and she used me to do it."

"Close," he repeated. "Let's call a spade a spade, shall we? You are Dr. Grissom's lover."

The color drained out of Sara's face, then returned with full force, making her turn a startling shade of red.

"Aren't you?"

"Yes," she nearly whispered.

"Objection," Valerie said. "Relevance?"

"It's important to establish the sort of relationship Dr. Grissom and Ms. Sidle share, your Honor," Mr. Monroe said.

"I'll allow it," the judge replied. "But, tread carefully, Mr. Monroe."

He nodded. "I have no further questions for Ms. Sidle."

The judge nodded. "You are dismissed."

Sara gratefully left the stand and took her seat next to Grissom. He grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly. She looked so miserable that all he wanted was to fold her into his arms and hold her, but knew that at such a moment it would be exceptionally inappropriate.

"The prosecution rests, your Honor," Valerie was saying.

"Mr. Monroe?"

"The defense calls Gilbert Grissom."

Grissom got up and returned to the stand.

"Dr. Grissom, I want to discuss the night that Natalie Davis was brought in for questioning by your department," he said.

Grissom nodded, his mind already racing back to that night, to standing in the hallway with Brass, listening to his friend say that he wanted to drip bleach on Natalie until she gave up Sara's location.

"You interrogated her, right?"

"Yes," Grissom replied.

"Did she … answer your questions?"

"_This last one was brilliant. You studied our crime scene so well, tracking our car to the junk yard and then towing it all the way out to the desert where you knew we wouldn't find it." He smiled at her, hoping that he'd be able to keep his charade going. Just a little longer … "And, then … the way you killed Sara …"_

"_No," Natalie whispered. "I didn't kill her."_

_Grissom's eyes lit up. "You didn't?"_

_Natalie shook her head, watching him. "This is about _her_," she said. "Her, her, _her_! It's always about _her_!"_

"_No, it isn't, Natalie, it's about you," Grissom said, mentally berating himself for showing any sign of interest in Sara's wellbeing. _

_Natalie looked away from him and began singing to herself. Grissom's eyes widened. _Oh, God. I'm losing her. I'm losing her.

"_Natalie, listen to me," he said calmly, firmly, hoping to snap her back into the conversation. "Tell me where she is. Natalie, please tell me where Sara is."_

_She continued singing, staring at a point on the floor. Grissom felt his frustration, his anger, and the despair he had fought all night rising to the surface. _

"Dr. Grissom?"

"Not exactly," he finally answered.

"No," Mr. Monroe agreed. "How could she? You were shaking her to death."

Grissom frowned.

"_Stop it!" he yelled. He grabbed Natalie by the shoulders and began shaking her. "Just stop this! _Tell me where Sara is_!"_

_She continued singing, apparently oblivious to his actions. He released her and sat back, his hand coming up to cover his mouth as horror filled him. _My God. What have I done_?_

"Isn't that true, Dr. Grissom?"

"I did … shake her," he admitted reluctantly. "Not _to death_, obviously, but … I was frustrated. I knew that she had already killed four people, and I knew that she had left my colleague out in the desert to die. I'm not proud of what I did, but … I was under a considerable amount of stress."

"Yes," Mr. Monroe agreed slowly, "I'd imagine that knowing that one's lover has been kidnapped can be stressful."

"Objection! He's baiting the witness."

"Sustained."

"Don't you think, Dr. Grissom, that your actions – which border on police brutality – were more connected to the fact that it was your lover under that car than that it was a colleague?"

Sara looked at Catherine. "I'm going to be sick," she whispered.

"_No_, you are not," Catherine said firmly. "Valerie's right. He's baiting Grissom. I don't know what he's trying to accomplish beyond character assassination, but he's working very hard to do it."

"Why assassinate his character?" Sara asked.

"Because they've got nothing else to do," Catherine said. "She did it, and everyone, even her attorney, knows it. But, he has to defend her somehow … if smearing Grissom is what it takes, that's what he'll do."

Sara shook her head. "It's not right."

"We've been here before, Sara. Just … hang in there."

She nodded, and resolved to see this thing through to the end.

* * *

They were finally dismissed for the day. Grissom and Sara walked out with the rest of the team. Warrick proposed going out for dinner before work; although the others agreed, Grissom and Sara both declined. While Nick, Warrick and Greg gave Sara encouraging hugs, Catherine grabbed Grissom's arm.

"Take tonight off," she said urgently.

He frowned. "Why?"

She nodded toward Sara, who was clinging to Nick. "She needs you more than we do."

Grissom sighed. "Yeah. Thanks, Cath."

She smiled. "That's what friends are for."


	29. Culmination

A/N: Yeah. It's been a tragic week for my computer. Attacked by a virus, stripped of all programs including Windows…and, finally magically restored. To say I'm glad to have it back is an understatement! I am sorry for not updating last weekend as promised, but it was pretty impossible without my machine. I'll take good care of you with updates this weekend. I know this one is short, but it's sweet and I love how it ends. I hope you will, too.

Thanks for your patience!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Culmination_

Sara sat next to Grissom in silence as they drove home from the courthouse. He glanced at her from time to time, but elected not to draw her out. He wasn't sure she was ready to talk.

He parked the car in front of the house and unbuckled his seatbelt. Sara did not move. Grissom turned to look at her.

"Honey –"

She shook her head wordlessly, unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car. Grissom hurried after her, catching up as she opened their front door. He followed her in and shut the door behind him.

Sara turned to look at him with an expression he could only describe as tragic. "Gil," she whispered.

Without another word, she collapsed into his arms. Grissom held her tightly, feeling her tears slide silently onto his neck and shoulder where her face was buried.

When she finally felt composed enough to step back from him, he refused to release her. One arm remained wrapped around her waist, while he wiped at the tear tracks on her cheeks with the backs of the fingers of his other hand. Sara caught his hand, holding it tightly in hers. She pressed a kiss against his fingers.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I know," he said. "I love you, too."

Sara's eyes were huge; they filled with tears again. "That's what I hated most about today," she said quietly. "I love you so much, and that man … he made our entire relationship sound … dirty. Cheap."

"He's grasping at straws," Grissom said. "I'll admit that we may not have been the most rule-abiding county employees when we started dating, but, Sara, there has _never_ been _anything_ cheap or dirty about how I feel about you. You are the most compassionate, intelligent, kind, genuine person I've ever known, and I feel incredibly fortunate to have you in my life." He smiled slightly. "How does that make our relationship anything but loving and pure?"

She pressed her lips against his. "I don't want to go back there."

"You don't have to," Grissom said. "You've given your testimony. You aren't tied to the courthouse anymore."

_You aren't tied to Las Vegas anymore._ The words that he refused to say seemed to hang in the air around them. Grissom nearly held his breath, waiting for her to break the silence. He was terrified that when she spoke, it would be to tell him that she wanted to leave him again.

"I _need_ to be in the courthouse," she said.

"But, you just said –"

"I said I don't _want_ to be there," she interrupted. "But, if I've learned anything in the past few months, it's that I need to face my fears and my demons head-on – and, the sooner, the better."

"I'll do what you want me to do," Grissom said. "If you want to go back to watch the rest of the trial, I'll be right there, holding your hand. If you want to skip it, I'll make sure you know the verdict in the end."

"I know what the verdict will be," she said. "There's no way she'll get away with this."

Grissom nodded, wishing he had her faith. Monroe was an excellent defense attorney. If anyone could get her out of this …

"Let me make you some tea," he said.

A ghost of a smile flitted across her face. "Do we have peppermint?"

"Yes." He smiled. "I know better than not to have it around here."

She smiled and took his hand as they walked to the kitchen. "You take good care of me."

He stopped and turned to look at her, cradling her cheek in his palm. "I love you," he said again.

She smiled and leaned into his touch. "I love you."

* * *

When Sara and Grissom walked into the courtroom the next morning, the entire graveyard team was already there. Sara checked in the doorway when she saw them.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in surprise.

"Nice way to greet your friends," Greg said with a grin.

"I'm sorry," she said automatically. "I just … didn't you all testify yesterday?"

"Yes," Nick agreed. "But, did you think for a minute we would let you go through this alone?"

Tears welled up in Sara's eyes for what felt like the thousandth time. "Oh …"

Catherine stepped forward and folded her into a hug. "We're here for you," she said softly.

Sara hugged her tightly until she felt under control again. "Thank you," she said. "All of you. You – you have no idea how much this means to me."

"We're a family," Warrick said, giving her a one-armed hug. "We support one another."

"Yeah," she agreed. "We are a family."

* * *

For the duration of the trial, to the best of their ability, the team came to support Sara. Grissom sat by her side every day, waiting to see how the trial would unfold. The others came as their schedules allowed – there were days that they were not able to attend because of shifts that became doubles, interrogations that did not end, evidence that was still being processed or other trials at which they had to testify. To Sara, it didn't matter if one or all of them came. The fact that they tried so hard to be there for her, and interrupted their lives as much as they did to make it happen, meant the world to her.

* * *

When the jury came in with a verdict, the entire team was on-hand. Sara sat between Grissom and Catherine with her hands clenched together in her lap to still their shaking. She could hear Nick, Warrick and Greg talking on the other side of Catherine, but did not even attempt to follow their conversation. All of her mental strength was focused on staying in her seat and keeping herself under control. She wasn't sure what would happen if she let down her carefully constructed guard, but she was sure that she did not want to find out.

They were instructed to rise as the judge entered the room. Sara still kept her hands clasped tightly in front of her both as she stood and as she took her seat again. She finally separated them when the jury came in; she reached out almost frantically for Grissom's hand. He held hers tightly, looking at her with concern.

"Are you all right?" he whispered.

Sara nodded without even turning her head to look at him. Just the tone of his voice was enough to tell her that his eyes were full of compassion and love. Looking into them would be her undoing.

The bailiff delivered the folded paper containing the jury's verdict to the judge. He read it and returned it to the foreman.

"Have you reached a verdict?" he asked.

"We have, Your Honor." The man paused.

"In the four charges of murder in the first degree, how do you find?"

"Guilty, but mentally ill."

"In the charges of kidnapping and attempted murder, how do you find?"

"Guilty, but mentally ill."

Sara released the breath she had been holding. Tears gathered in her eyes. _It's over. It's truly over._

Grissom released her hand to put his arm around her shoulders and draw her to him. She buried her face in his neck, willing herself not to cry in the courtroom.

The judge issued instructions for Natalie to return for sentencing, but Sara didn't hear them. All she could hear was Grissom's voice, whispering in her ear.

"She can't hurt us anymore, Sara. It's over now."

Sara nodded. It was as if he had read her mind.

The courtroom cleared quickly after the judge concluded the session. Only the team and Valerie Nichols remained.

"Thank you," she said, still flushed with her victory. "I could never have done this without you."

"I think you deserve a lot of the credit," Catherine said. "We just had the pieces. You painted the picture for the jury."

"I painted the truth," Valerie replied. "I'm glad that everything worked out so well." She turned to Sara with kind eyes. "How do you feel?"

Sara considered the question for a moment. "Free," she said at last.

Valerie smiled. "Yes," she said quietly. "I can understand that."

"How about a free lunch to go with all that freedom?" Nick asked. "Let's go out. I'm buying."

"I know better than to turn that offer down," Warrick said with a grin. "Where are you taking us, big spender?"

Nick turned his smile to Sara. "You choose. This is your victory."

Sara smiled. "You're all going to think I'm nuts, but I'd really like to go to Frank's. We've haven't been there as a team in ages."

Although they laughed, everyone agreed. As Greg had told Nick and Sara years before, going to Frank's was tradition.

* * *

When she looked back even years later, that lunch with her team was one of Sara's fondest memories. In those few hours, she felt complete freedom. It was the culmination of so much stress, so much work, so much pain and heartache, and to be surrounded by her friends in such a moment of victory was incredibly special to her.

She was seated between Grissom and Nick, laughing at a story Warrick was telling about a recent case. Even though he was laughing as he related the events to them, there was a sadness in his eyes that seemed to come from his very core. Sara mentally sighed. No matter what Grissom might say to the contrary, she was sure that Warrick had a long way to go before he would recover from his divorce.

"So, Sara, what are you going to do with your time now that the trial's over?" Greg asked.

Sara blinked. "I … haven't really thought about it." She smiled. "I guess hanging around the courthouse every day is pretty much out, huh?"

"Probably," Nick said with a grin. "Have you thought about coming back to work? I'll bet Doug would love to have you back on swing."

Sara bit her lip. "I … don't know," she admitted.

Grissom smiled and put his arm across the back of Sara's chair. "I sort of like having her at home all the time."

Catherine looked at Sara, although she spoke to Grissom. "Good job, Gil. She'll be on the next bus out of town." She chuckled. "I don't think our Sara is really a housewife-y kind of girl."

Sara laughed. "That all depends on your definition of 'housewife-y.'"

"Hey, now, my mom is a housewife," Nick said. "No need to knock it. It was nice having her there when we got home from school."

"Nick, you're one of, like, a thousand kids," Greg said. "Your mom _had_ to stay home to keep track of all of you. She probably needed an army of nannies to help her."

Nick smiled. "I'm just saying –"

"Point made, Nicky," Sara said. "I'll remember that when I have a thousand kids."

Grissom choked on his sip of water, and the table erupted in laughter.

"How do _you_ feel about those thousand kids, Gil?" Catherine teased.

"I think I'm going to need a bigger house."

Renewed laughter followed his words.

* * *

"So, what do you want to do now?" Grissom asked as he and Sara walked into the house after lunch with the team.

Sara grinned and turned to him, linking her arms around his neck and leaning in to kiss him deeply. She pulled back and smiled at him. "I want to keep celebrating," she said in a low voice.

Grissom grinned back at her and pulled her closer. "I like the sound of that idea."

"I thought you might."

Sara began to walk backwards, pulling him to the bedroom. Grissom followed her, pulling her in for a kiss every few steps. They finally reached their destination; Sara giggled as they fell onto the bed together.

"Did you mean it?"

Sara stopped working on undoing the buttons down the front of his shirt to look up at him. "Um … I'm undressing you. Yes. I meant it. I absolutely want us to make love – perhaps more than once."

"Yes, dear, that much I've figured out. I meant … Did you mean what you said at the diner? About having a thousand kids?"

"Well, I think I'm a little old for us to think that a _thousand_ is a remote possibility."

"Sara. Stop avoiding the question."

Sara fell flat on the bed and looked into his eyes. "Are you asking if I want to have children with you?"

"Yes. That's what I'm asking."

She reached up to cup his face in her hands. "Yes," she nearly whispered. "Someday, I want to have your baby." She paused, searching his eyes. "Is that something you want?"

Grissom leaned down to capture her lips. "Yes," he said, his own voice just above a whisper. He kissed her again. "What do you say we give it a try right now?"

"What?" Sara gasped.

"Come on," he said. "It's something we both want, and we're not getting any younger. Why not?"

Sara could easily think of twenty reasons that this was a bad idea. Yet, when she looked into his eyes, all she could think of were the reasons it was a _good_ idea.

"Okay," she said with a grin. "Let's do it!"

With her future so completely uncertain, bringing a baby into their lives seemed, at best, ill-advised. But, she loved him, and he loved her, and in that moment, a baby represented her future – _their_ future. And, that was all she truly wanted, all she had _ever_ wanted: A future with Grissom.


	30. Too Soon

A/N: I apologize in advance. I hope you'll like this one …

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

I don't own CSI or _Groundhog Day_. And, for the record, I really hate that movie.

* * *

_Too Soon_

Sara was still asleep when Grissom awoke. She was curled in a ball, facing him, with her hair fanned across her pillow. He smiled, shifting a stray lock away from her face so he could see her more clearly.

He exhaled slowly, wondering what had happened inside her during the preceding hours.

Grissom had once told Sara that, somewhere during adulthood, he had forgotten how much his teenage self had wanted to be a father. Yet, with her, that dream had come creeping back.

He knew that the timing was terrible. Everything was so unsettled. Sara had been a nomad for months, and even now he wasn't sure that she was ready to come home for good.

But …

He loved her. He loved her so much. He wanted to share this with her. He wanted her to have their baby, a baby that would be tangible proof of their love and their hope for a brighter future. Their baby would _be_ their brighter future.

And …

A small part of him – part that he refused to acknowledge – knew that if Sara were pregnant, she would not leave Vegas again. She would not leave him again. She would stay so they could raise their child together.

But …

Wasn't that what they were planning, anyway? They were going to get married, and they had talked before about having children. They were accelerating things, to be sure. They were ignoring factors that they should weigh. For once, they were being reckless with a decision.

And, for once, Grissom didn't care. All he cared about was Sara, and having her home with him.

All he cared about was his family.

* * *

A soft kiss against her cheek woke Sara from a dreamless sleep. She opened her eyes slowly and smiled at Grissom.

"Waking me for the next round?" she teased.

"I wish," Grissom replied. "I have to leave for work."

"Mm." Sara closed her eyes again. "Kick some criminal ass."

Grissom chuckled. "I'll do my best. See you in the morning."

"Mm."

She was asleep again before he had left the house.

* * *

Sara was walking through the desert, holding Grissom's hand. He smiled at her, and she smiled back. She loved the desert at sunset. The unbearable heat of the day was dying, and the colors played brilliantly across the horizon.

Grissom smiled at her again. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

He released her hand and began to walk away. Panic seized her.

"Where are you going? Grissom? Where are you going?"

"This way," he said. "Come on, Sara, it's this way."

"What's this way?"

"It's this way."

She started running to keep up with him, but his strides lengthened with every step. She was running flat out, but could barely see him.

"Grissom! Grissom, wait up!"

Rain began pounding down, choking her as it smacked against her. She stopped running and gasped for air. Grissom was gone.

"Grissom!"

"Sara! Sara, where are you? Sara!"

"Grissom! I'm here!"

"Sara! Sara, I can't find you! _Sara_!"

The ground was getting softer under the rain, and Sara began to sink. Fear filled her. She was going to be swallowed whole.

"_Gil_! Gil, please!"

"_Sara_!"

With a gasping scream, Sara awoke from the nightmare. Her heart was pounding and she was shaking uncontrollably. She ran her trembling hands over her face.

"Not again," she whispered. "I can't handle this again."

She looked at Grissom's empty pillow and shuddered. When she had gone through this before, he had been the only thing that could comfort her, and she had barely let him do that. She picked up his pillow and hugged it to her chest, closing her eyes. As she took deep, calming breaths, a conversation she had had with Nick after a nightmare ran through her head.

_Nick exhaled. "Sar, you've got to tell him. He needs to know."_

_Terror filled Sara's eyes. "No. No, Nick, he can't know! You can't tell him."_

"_Sara …"_

"_Nicky, please, promise me you won't tell Grissom."_

_Nick held up his hands in surrender. "It's not my place. It's not the sort of thing he should hear from me. But, Sara, he needs to hear it from you."_

_Sara shook her head forcefully. "No."_

"_Why not?" Nick asked, clearly bewildered. "He'd be able to help you – he'd want to help you –"_

"_I don't want that," Sara said. "He's so worried about me already. I don't want to make him worry anymore. I don't want him to feel like he has to pick me up and put me back together. I can deal with this. He doesn't need to."_

"_Sara, call me crazy, but it's pretty clear the guy loves you. The picking you up and putting you back together … he'd want to do it for you, because that's what people do for the ones they love."_

The memory changed, morphing into a conversation she had had with her mother shortly after arriving at her doorstep only months before.

"_Sara, you love him. I know how much you love him. And, I know how much he loves you. I saw it firsthand when I stayed with you over the summer. And, I know that you're going through a lot right now. I know that you're doing everything you can just to hold yourself together. And, sweetheart, I'm proud of you for doing as well as you are. But, I also know that cutting yourself off from Grissom is like cutting yourself off from your heart." _

_A tear slid down Sara's cheek. _

_Laura reached across the table to grasp Sara's hands. "He is your heart, Sara. Right now, your heart isn't broken. It's alive and well and waiting for you to touch it again. Without doing that, I don't think you'll ever be able to heal."_

Tears filled Sara's eyes. Nick was right. Her mother was right. Grissom loved her. He was her heart as much as she was his. He'd want to know, and he'd want to help her.

Trying to get through on her own had failed miserably the first time. It was time to try a new strategy.

It was time to lean on the man she loved.

* * *

When Grissom arrived home the next morning, Sara was sitting on the couch, watching the morning news and eating a bowl of cereal. Grissom leaned over to kiss the top of her head.

"Good morning."

She swallowed her bite of Cheerios and smiled up at him. "Good morning. You're home early."

Grissom chuckled. "I believe that 'on time' is the phrase you wanted."

"For you, that's early."

He smiled and sat down with her on the couch. He looked at her critically. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," she admitted. "But, I think that might have something to do with how late you kept me up last night."

Grissom grinned. "I think it was more about _you_ keeping _me_ _up_."

Sara swatted at him with the hand that wasn't holding her cereal bowl. "Whatever."

"Seriously," Grissom said, catching her hand and squeezing it. "You're feeling okay?"

"Yeah," Sara said. She rolled her eyes. "Dr. Grissom, I believe your first degree was in biology. You of all people should know what it's far too early for me to know anything."

"I know," he sighed. He kissed her hand and released it. "I just thought … maybe some women's intuition thing …"

Sara laughed. "Nope. Sorry."

Grissom looked at the mug on the coffee table. "What are you drinking?"

"Tea," she replied. "The water should still be hot if you want some."

Grissom nodded and got up to make himself a cup of tea. "Any big plans for today?" he called from the kitchen.

"Not really."

They lapsed into silence until Grissom returned with his tea and a banana. Sara raised an eyebrow.

"You don't want some cereal?"

"I'm starting small."

"Hm." Sara put her empty bowl down on the coffee table next to her tea. "Gil, I need to tell you something."

"Okay," Grissom said, looking up from peeling his banana.

"Last night, after you left …"

Fear flickered in Grissom's eyes as they shot toward the door. _No signs of forced entry …_

"I-I-um …" She forced a smile as her eyes shifted down. "God, this is hard."

Grissom reached for her hand, surprised by how cold it was. "Sara, you know you can tell me anything."

"I had a nightmare," she blurted out. "About that night. I haven't had one in ages, but I had one last night."

Grissom's hand tightened around hers. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Sara shook her head. "There isn't much to tell. Same thing as always – I was lost in the desert and –" Her voice broke. "I just want to stop thinking about it."

Grissom reached for her and pulled her against him. Sara snuggled into his embrace, glad that he held her tightly.

Maybe, if he held her tightly enough, he'd be able to hold her together.

* * *

Grissom pulled on his jacket as he leaned down to look at Sara's sleeping face. She looked … stressed out. He sighed, wondering what she was dreaming, and if he should wake her.

His hand hovered over her shoulder, ready to shake her awake.

He stopped himself. He couldn't do it. He remembered waking her up from nightmares before, and how she had reacted. He didn't want to put her through that again.

He dropped a gentle kiss onto her head, hoping that it would be enough to stop whatever horrific memories were resurfacing while she slept.

He left the room as quietly as possible. Hank immediately jumped up to take his place on the bed. For some reason, the sight of the dog lying down next to Sara made him feel better. Maybe he'd be able to protect her from herself better than Grissom could.

* * *

Pain. Crushing pain. So heavy. So much weight.

"Natalie! Don't do this! _Natalie_!"

The last word tore from her lips in an agonized scream as Sara woke up, face down on her bed. She flung her blankets off her as though their weight was pinning her limbs down as the wrecked Mustang had.

She looked down at her pillow and took a deep breath as she realized where she was.

"I'm home," she gasped. "I'm safe."

She burst into tears.

Hank, who had woken from his slumber when Sara had screamed, moved closer to her. She hugged him, accepting his comfort while she tried to get herself under control.

When she finally managed to stop crying, she reached for her cell phone. She had promised herself she would lean on him.

"Grissom," he answered on the second ring.

"Hi," Sara said, her voice still wobbly.

"What's wrong, honey?" he asked.

"Are you busy?"

"No." It was a lie; he was at a crime scene with Nick and had left the house when he had seen her name on the caller ID. He stood by their SUV to talk to her. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I had another nightmare." The tears started to slide down her cheeks again, but, this time, she did not collapse into sobbing.

"Oh, honey."

"I don't know what's wrong with me!" she exclaimed. "The trial is over! She's in prison! She can't hurt me – _us_ – ever again. This is supposed to be over! Why is it coming back to me now?"

"You've spent a month thinking of nothing but that night," Grissom said. "Every day, we went to the courthouse and listened to testimony – whether for or against her, it all came back to what she did to you and to those four people she killed. Of course, your subconscious is going to have a field day with all those memories."

"You're right, of course," Sara sniffled. She drew a shaky breath and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I'm sorry to bother you at work like this."

"Don't be sorry," Grissom said. "It's not a bother at all. I'm glad to help you – I'm glad you trust me with this."

"I trust you with everything," Sara nearly whispered.

"And, I you," Grissom said, his own voice low. "I love you, Sara."

"I love you, too." She closed her eyes for a moment. "Go back to work."

"You're sure you're all right?"

"I'll be fine. I'll see you when you get home."

"Okay." He paused as Nick came toward him with evidence in hand. "I'll see you when I see you."

Sara smiled. It had been so long since they had used that expression. "I'll see you when I see you."

She waited until he had ended the call before closing her own phone.

"He's right," she whispered. "It's just the toll of the past couple weeks. I'll be fine."

* * *

But, she was not. Grissom became accustomed to seeing a tense expression on her sleeping face. More than once, he woke to the sound of her reciting multiplication tables in her sleep. The sound sent chills shivering through him.

He was pleased, though, that she called him at work after each nightmare. The trust she was showing, as well as the desire to fight through her demons instead of succumbing to them again, convinced him that everything would be okay this time around.

* * *

After waking up from a nightmare for the eighth night in a row, Sara felt like she was stuck in some sort of horror movie – or, at the very least, _Groundhog Day_. This time around, she decided to go to the bathroom before calling Grissom.

It was a mistake.

Tears filled her eyes as she reached for the box of tampons she had hoped not to use again for quite some time.

_Why can't anything go right for me_?

* * *

Grissom came home to find Sara sitting cross-legged on the couch. He smiled at her. She hadn't called him at all that night; he hoped she was conquering her nightmares.

She did not return his smile. Upon closer inspection, he realized that something was terribly wrong. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy.

"Sara?" He sat down next to her and took her hand. "What's wrong, love?"

"I'm not pregnant." The words were just barely whispered, and were followed by a rush of tears.

"Oh, honey." He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. "It'll be all right. Honestly, I didn't expect it to happen this fast. We'll just have to try again, that's all … try _harder_ …"

She laughed at his pun in spite of herself. "Gil … no."

"No?"

"I don't want to do this anymore."

His heart fell through his stomach. "You don't want a baby anymore?"

"No … yes … I don't know."

"Sara, stop. You're confused and upset and I don't think we should have this conversation right now."

"We have to have it now." She buried her face in his shoulder. "Gil, I need to leave for a little while."

His arms tightened around her. "Sara, wait –"

"I have to," she said. "I can't live like this, with constant nightmares. I have to get away from here, to regain perspective. Once I'm settled in my head again, I'll come back."

"You'll come back," Grissom repeated.

"Yes." She tightened her grip on him. "I'm not leaving you," she nearly whispered. "I'm leaving Las Vegas. For now. I love you so much, Gil, I really do. I just can't –" Her voice broke.

"Where will you go?"

"I'm going to call Mary," she said. "She asked me to come and visit before. I know she'd be happy to see me."

"Mary," he repeated. "In Boston."

"Yeah." She sighed. "I know it's far away, but …"

"It's what you need to do."

"Yeah."

"If it's what you need, Sara, then I want you to do it." Grissom drew a shaky breath. "I'm just going to miss you so much."

Sara buried her face in his neck and let her tears fall. "I'm going to miss you, too."


	31. The Right Way

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you'll like this one – it's _slightly_ more upbeat than everything else I've posted in the last week.

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_The Right Way_

Sara pulled back from Grissom's embrace and wiped at her tear-stained cheeks. "This isn't like last time," she said evenly.

"What do you mean?" Grissom asked, grabbing her hand and holding it tightly.

"I want to do this right this time," she said. "I want to be totally above-board with you the whole time. I want you to know what I'm thinking and what I'm doing. I want …" Her voice broke; she swallowed hard before continuing. "I want to say goodbye to Catherine and the guys. I want to say goodbye to you."

Grissom reached up with his free hand to cradle her cheek. "And, I want to support you in every way I can."

Sara leaned into his touch. "We'll get through this, Gil."

He nodded. _We have to get through this. I can't imagine my life without her_.

* * *

In keeping with her decision to leave the "right way," Sara spent her afternoon researching flights online. This time, she didn't want to arrive at the airport and make a last-minute decision about her destination. She didn't want to wait until three days before she needed to be somewhere to make a reservation. She didn't want to pay ten times more than she truly needed to pay.

She wanted to think it through and make the best decision possible. And, she wanted to make sure she included Grissom in the process.

"Hey, Gil, can you look at this?" she asked.

Grissom abandoned the soup he was making to join her in the living room, where she was sitting on the couch with her laptop balanced on her legs.

"What have you got?"

She smiled, thinking that everything was evidence at a crime scene to him. "Flights to Boston."

Grissom exhaled slowly as he sat down next to her. "Price shopping?"

"I thought I'd try being frugal for a change."

Grissom chuckled. "What have you found?"

"This flight leaves in three weeks," she said. "It's pretty reasonable, don't you think?"

Grissom nodded, swallowing the rejection he wanted to hurl at her idea of taking _any_ flight away from him. "Yeah, it looks good."

Sara looked at him for a minute. "The ticket … It's … um … it's one-way."

He kept his eyes trained on the screen. "Yeah, I see that."

"That doesn't mean I'll never be back."

Grissom finally looked at her. "I know."

"Do you?"

"I think I do."

Sara put her laptop on the couch beside her, and wrapped her arms around Grissom, resting her head on his shoulder. "I love you."

"That I _do_ know. And, I love you, too."

She smiled against him. "Then, that's all we need."

Grissom leaned his cheek against the top of her head and sighed. He hoped she was right.

* * *

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mary."

"Sara! Hi! How are you? _Where_ are you?"

Sara laughed. "I'm fine, and I'm in Vegas."

"Good."

"I was wondering, though …"

"What?"

"What are you doing on March tenth at about seven thirty?"

"In the morning? Drinking coffee."

"How about in the evening?"

"Um … giving Josie a bath."

"Can you postpone bath time that night?"

"Dare I ask why?"

Sara smiled. "How would you feel about taking a trip to the airport to pick up your best friend?"

"Sara! Do you mean it? You're finally coming to visit me?"

"I'm finally coming," Sara said, laughing in spite of herself.

"Oh, this is fantastic! Wait until I tell Tom and Josie! They'll be so excited."

"You're really glad?"

"Sara!" Mary laughed. "I've been after you to come and visit for ages. I'm just thrilled you've finally decided to do it! So, are you and Grissom getting a hotel, or do you want to stay with us?"

"Mar …" Sara suddenly felt exhausted. "It's just going to be me."

"What happened?" Mary asked, immediately terrified.

"I just … need to get away from Vegas for a while, that's all. Gil's fine with it."

"You're sure?"

"I'm not breaking up with him, if that's what you're asking."

"Good," Mary said, obviously relieved. "And, you're sure he doesn't mind you leaving?"

"He minds," Sara said honestly. "I'm not pleased to be away from him, either, but … I just … I can't stay here, Mary. Not with all these memories."

"Okay," Mary said quietly. "Well, Boston is a good place for you, then. You can stay with us for as long as you like."

"You don't have to – I can get a hotel –"

"Are you made of money?" Mary said, laughing again. "Stay with us, Sara. We'd love to have you." She paused. "It's been too many years since we've lived together. Let's try it out again – even if it's just for a little while."

"Okay," Sara agreed.

Mary grinned. "I'll see you on the tenth, then."

"It's a date."

* * *

Grissom sat at his desk, staring at the butterfly cases on the wall across from him. _I sent Sara a cocoon when I was at Williams…maybe I shouldn't have left her to begin with…maybe there was something I missed…something I could have done…_

"Hey. Are you okay?"

Grissom looked up to see Catherine standing in front of him. He blinked. "Catherine. Hello."

She looked at him for a moment, then sat down. "What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

"Something's wrong," she said. "Out with it."

Grissom sighed. "Sara's leaving again."

Catherine's eyebrows shot up. "What?" She wasn't sure what surprised her more – the news that Sara was leaving, or the ease with which Grissom shared it.

"She's going to visit Mary in Boston."

As her eyebrows relaxed, sympathy flooded her face. "You don't want her to go."

"Of course, I don't," Grissom snapped.

"I know you don't," Catherine said, holding up her hand to fight off a verbal attack. "I just … Have you talked to her about it?"

"Sort of."

"Hm." _That means no_.

"What can I do, Cath? I want her to be happy, and that's not happening here."

"Go with her," Catherine said. "You've got plenty of vacation saved. Take a trip. Visit Boston. I'm sure it's lovely this time of year."

Grissom smiled slightly. "Freezing cold, you mean."

"Whatever. The _place_ isn't important, Grissom, the _person_ is. Go to Boston with her. Take a couple weeks and reconnect."

He shook his head. "That's not what she wants."

"She said that?"

"She's buying a one-way ticket," he confessed. "I don't know when she'll be back, and neither does she. She's just … doing some soul-searching, and she needs to do that alone."

Catherine sighed. "So, what are you going to do?"

Grissom spread his hands out in a gesture of resigned defeat. "I'm going to do what I've been doing – I'm going to support her as best I can."

"_That_," Catherine said with conviction, "is exactly what she needs."

* * *

When Grissom got home the next morning, Sara was still sleeping. He stripped off his shoes, socks, pants and shirt and climbed into bed with her, wrapping his arms around her. As he had feared, the action roused her. She smiled slightly and snuggled close to him.

"I love you," she whispered.

He kissed the top of her head. "I love you, too."

They fell asleep together, wrapped in each other's arms.

* * *

"Can you do something for me?"

Grissom smiled. "Need a jar opened?"

Sara grinned. "No, but, thank you, my burly man. I need something a bit more complex than that."

"Okay," he said slowly.

Sara sat down next to him on the couch. "I need you to let the entire team off on time tomorrow morning."

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "Dear, I don't force them to work overtime. It just happens."

"Okay, then, insist that everyone leave on time," Sara amended.

"Is there a special reason?"

She nodded and bit her lip. "I want everyone to meet at Frank's for breakfast so I can say goodbye."

A cloud passed over Grissom's face. "But, we have another week –"

"I know," Sara interrupted. "I'm just afraid that if I don't do this now, everyone will be too busy or there will be some horrible car chase scene and it'll never happen. This way, at least I'll have time to see anyone who can't come tomorrow." She looked down then back up into his eyes again. "Please, Griss. I want to say goodbye this time."

He nodded and cradled her cheek in his palm. "Okay."

She smiled. "Thank you. But, don't tell them why. Just tell them to be there."

He frowned quizzically.

"I want to tell them myself. I don't want to leave it up to you again."

He nodded slowly. "Okay. If that's what you want, that's how we'll do it. I'll tell them breakfast at Frank's tomorrow is on me."

"You don't –"

He silenced her with a finger over her lips. "I want to."

* * *

Sara felt a certain amount of nervousness as she pulled into the parking lot at Frank's the next morning. She knew her friends wouldn't be pleased to learn that she was leaving them again.

_Well, it's not easy for me, either. _

It was easy to pin her problems on Vegas, and to leave Vegas. Leaving her friends, however …

She climbed out of her car and saw Greg walking toward the restaurant entrance from the other end of the parking lot. He noticed her and waved cheerfully, redirecting his steps so they could walk into together.

Sara forced a smile and caught up to him.

_Leaving my friends is incredibly hard. _

"Hey!" Greg said as they met in the middle. "Grissom didn't say you'd be here today."

She coaxed forth a smile. "Surprise."

Greg grinned. "_Great_ surprise. Come on, I think everyone else is already here."

"Really?" Sara looked at her watch. "I figured I was early."

"Grissom got all nice on us and told us to pack up early and head over. I was in an interrogation, though, so I couldn't just store my evidence until tomorrow. That's why I'm a little later."

"Oh," Sara said, amazed that Grissom had thought to send everyone "home" early.

Greg held the door for her; as soon as she walked in, she realized that he was right. Grissom, Catherine, Warrick and Nick were already seated at a large, circular table.

"Hey, look who I found!" Greg said as they joined their friends.

"Sara!" Nick exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"She's allowed to eat, Nick," Warrick said, giving Sara a wide grin. "Great to see you, girl. You're looking good."

Sara smiled at them as she sat down in the empty chair next to Grissom. "Thanks. How was work?"

Nick, Warrick and Greg all immediately launched into stories about their latest case, making Sara laugh with the more amusing aspects. While they were occupied, Catherine, who was seated on Grissom's other side, leaned closer to him.

"Is this –?"

"Let her," he whispered, cutting her off.

Catherine sat back, the smile sliding off her face. He had all but admitted the true reason for their team breakfast. Looking at Grissom again, she could see the pain that was still present in his eyes. She sighed, wishing things could be different.

Sara was amazed at how quickly they fell into the familiar patterns of a breakfast after shift. Almost immediately, she was stunned by her own amazement. _Has it really been that long? I used to do this with them all the time! Have I forgotten my own friends? My _best_ friends? _

For the first time since making her decision to go to Boston, she started to doubt that it was the right one.

Sara waited until their dishes had been cleared away and final cups of coffee poured before speaking up.

"Guys, there's something I need to tell you," she said.

Although her voice wasn't loud, she caught the attention of her friends instantly. She smiled out of nervousness under their concerned looks.

"I, um, I asked Grissom to get all of you to come to breakfast today because I wanted to tell you something," she said.

Warrick and Nick looked at each other tensely. Every horrible possibility ran through both of their minds simultaneously.

Sara drew a deep breath. "I … I'm going away for a while. I'm going to visit Mary. In Boston."

Nick let out a relieved laugh. "Is that all?"

"Sara, you had me convinced you were dying!" Warrick exclaimed. "Don't _do_ that!" He put his hand over his chest. "The old ticker can't take it."

"_Dying_?" Sara gasped. "No, nothing like that! I just … I need a break from Vegas, that's all. So, I'm going to see Mary."

"How long will you be gone?" Greg asked in a small voice.

Sadness filled her eyes. "I … don't know."

"So, it's like last time?" Greg pressed.

"No," Grissom said, speaking for the first time in quite a while. "It's not like last time at all."

Sara looked at him for a moment, seeing the strength in his eyes. In that moment, she truly knew and understood that he believed in her and in them.

"No," she echoed. "This time, I'm not going to cut myself off from all of you. I want to know what you're doing … I don't want to have to play catch-up when I come back."

Grissom reached for her hand under the table and squeezed it. She looked at him again and smiled.

_We'll be fine. _All_ of us._

_

* * *

_

"Thank you for doing that," Sara said as she and Grissom walked into their house together.

"It was nothing."

Sara shook her head and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Financially for you, no. Logistically for you, not really. But, emotionally for me … it was a huge deal. And, I thank you for it."

Grissom leaned down to gently kiss her lips. "You're welcome."

She kissed him again, letting her lips linger over his for a long moment before breaking the kiss.

He leaned his forehead against hers. "Sara …"

"Yeah?"

"How are we going to make this work?"

She didn't even need to ask what "this" was. "We're going to call each other," she said. "I know the time difference is huge, but, Griss, we've got to do it."

He nodded. "And, we can email."

"Yes."

"And, we'll see each other when we can."

"Definitely." She pressed a kiss against his neck. "Mary would love to see you. So would your little girlfriend, Josie."

"Are you proposing that I come to Boston for a visit?"

She smiled a teasing smile. "Maybe."

"You let me know when you want me to come, and I'll be there."

"I know. You're always there for me."

"Just like you are for me."

"Gil …"

"Yeah?"

"This _is_ going to work, isn't it? Us?"

"Yes," he said with conviction. He pulled back to look into her eyes. "Sara, I love you. We'll make it work. I know it."

She smiled and leaned in to kiss him. "Good. I love you, too."

_It has to work. I can't imagine my life without him. _


	32. Running

A/N: Ack, these angsty, emotional chapters are getting harder and harder to write. I hope you enjoy this one.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI.

_Running_

Sara and Grissom were both silent as he drove her to the airport. The silence was the most awkward they had shared in years. Both felt compelled to speak, yet neither knew what to say. These were their last precious moments together – neither had any idea when they would next see each other. How could they let them pass without speaking? But, how could they possibly put into words all they were thinking and feeling?

Without speaking, Grissom reached across for Sara's hand. She turned her palm up as soon as she felt his touch, and let her fingers lace through his.

They held each other's hands tightly, letting the touch of skin on skin say all that their words could not.

* * *

It was Sara who finally broke the silence of the car.

"You don't have to park if you don't want to. You can just drop me off."

Grissom looked at her in shock. "I'll park," was all he said.

He parked in the short term lot, and they climbed out of the car. Grissom opened the trunk and pulled Sara's luggage out, setting it on the ground.

Silence reigned again as they walked into the airport and waited in the short line for Sara to check in for her flight.

"Hello," the agent said with a smile when they reached the counter. "Where are you headed today?"

"Boston," Sara replied, handing over her license.

"Have you been there before?" the young man asked.

"I went to college there."

"Wow, that's great. I'll bet it's a great city."

"I like it," Sara replied.

"I've never been. You know, I work in an airport, but I've never once left Las Vegas." He smiled in a mystified sort of way. "Kind of sad, don't you think?"

"You should try leaving sometime," Sara said as he tagged her luggage and handed her a boarding pass. "Travel broadens the mind."

He grinned. "I'll remember that. Enjoy your flight."

"Thanks."

Sara tucked her boarding pass into her carry-on bag and looked at Grissom. He gave her a tight smile and took her hand, leading her toward the security gates.

The line for security was short, so they had an extra moment before Sara needed to join it. She looked at Grissom and suddenly felt tears fill her eyes.

"Oh, honey, don't," he begged.

But, Sara could no more stop herself from crying than eliminate the horrible memories of the desert. A tear slid down her cheek, then another and another, and then she was in Grissom's arms, sobbing against his shoulder.

"You can stay," he whispered, holding her tightly. "You don't have to leave. Stay here with me, Sara. We can be happy here."

"I know," she sobbed. "I know, Gil, I know. I'm so sorry. I just … I have to …"

She finally stopped crying and pulled away enough to look at him. "I want to be with you so badly that it hurts, Gil. But, being in Vegas hurts more. I just … I have to leave."

He kissed her tear-stained cheeks. "I miss you already."

"I know." She leaned up to kiss his lips. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

She kissed him again. This time, he held her tightly, not letting her break the kiss right away. When he finally pulled back, tears stood in her eyes again.

"Call me when you get to Boston."

"I will."

"And tell Mary and Tom hello."

"I will."

"Be careful."

"I will." She pressed another kiss against his lips. "You're the one who needs that advice. Stay safe, okay? I want to know that you'll pick up the phone when I call."

"Always." He kissed her one last time, and gently released her, squeezing her hand in a silent goodbye.

Sara slowly pulled her hand away from his, then shouldered her carry-on bag and stepped up to the security checkpoint. She turned just before reaching the metal detectors, and waved. Grissom returned her wave, but did not turn to leave. He watched until she was through security, then kept staring, thinking that if he looked hard enough at the spot where she had disappeared, he'd be able to see her again.

It was a long moment before he was able to acknowledge that she was gone.

* * *

Sara managed to find a seat that was both near a window and away from the others milling around her departure gate. She put in her ear buds and looked out the window, letting the sounds of her favorite classic rock songs invade her mind. Maybe, if she listened long enough, she'd be able to forget what she was doing. Maybe, she'd be able to pretend that this trip was just a week-long excursion to visit Mary, not an indefinite stay to run from her demons.

She shivered slightly and wrapped her arms around herself as she stared out the window. Her reflection stared back at her.

"Coward," she whispered. "You're leaving him because you can't face what happened to you."

A tear slid down her cheek.

_I want to go home_, ran through her head over and over again.

She could only wish she knew where that was.

* * *

Grissom was immediately ambushed by Hank when he made his way into his house. He was amazed by how empty the house seemed, even when filled with an excited dog.

"Down, boy," he said without any of his usual enthusiasm.

Hank responded to his mood, and sank back to the ground. He followed Grissom to the kitchen like a silent shadow, watching as his master took a bottle of beer from the refrigerator. He then followed Grissom to the living room, where he sat down on the couch and opened his beer. Hank sat down on the floor next to him and put his head in Grissom's lap.

Grissom sighed and began stroking the dog's head while sipping his beer.

"We'll make it," he said without any real conviction. "We'll make it."

* * *

Sara fell asleep almost as soon as the plane took off. For once, her sleep was dreamless, although punctuated by snippets of the songs that played on her iPod as she slept.

She awoke just as the final descent was beginning; a flight attendant passing as she opened her eyes reminded her to turn off her iPod. She smiled and nodded, doing at the woman asked. For some reason, she felt rather bereft without the music filling her ears and mind.

The plane touched down and an unexpected thrill of excitement shot through her. _I'll get to see Mary soon!_ In that moment, she realized how much she had missed her friend.

After what felt like forever, the plane docked at the gate. Sara gathered her belongings as the people in the rows ahead of her stood to exit. Excitement drove her to her feet as well; she knew Grissom would disapprove, but she couldn't possibly stay in her seat for another moment.

At long last, her turn to exit the plan arrived. She walked up the jet way as quickly as possible, trying to ignore the icy air that crept in around her.

_Winter in Boston. What was I thinking? _

_That I need to see Mary. That's what I was thinking. _

The walk to baggage claim passed quickly; her fellow travelers seemed to be businesspeople for whom speed through airport terminals was essential. Sara kept pace with them easily, her excitement to see Mary fueling her steps.

"Sara! Over here!"

A genuinely happy smile lighting up her face, Sara turned to see Mary running toward her. She met her halfway; both of them laughing as they hugged each other tightly.

"You're here!" Mary exclaimed, releasing her and looking at her for a moment. "You're really, really here!"

Sara laughed. "I'm really here."

"Oh, God, I can't believe how much I've missed you!" Mary hugged her again. "Come on. Let's get your stuff and get you home."

"Where are Tom and Josie?"

"At home," Mary replied. "Josie goes to bed by eight, so Daddy's taking care of that tonight."

"Oh, man, Mar, I'm sorry. I didn't think about her bedtime when I reserved my flight."

"Are you kidding? _I_ wouldn't have thought about her bedtime when making flight arrangements. It's not a big deal at all." She squeezed Sara's arm. "I'm just happy to have you here, no matter what time it is."

Sara grinned. Mary's friendship was exactly what she needed to lift her spirits.

Coming to Boston had definitely been a good decision.

* * *

Grissom was attempting – highly unsuccessfully – to sleep when his phone began to ring. He picked it up from his nightstand, smiling slightly at Sara's name on the display.

"Hi, honey," he said.

"Are you sleeping?" she asked without saying hello.

"Do I sound half-asleep to you?"

"No," she said. "I'm not sure if that's good or bad."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm glad I didn't wake you, but … I think you need to sleep before you go to work."

"Yes, dear. Now that I know you're okay, I may just do that."

"Oh, don't guilt-trip me. Not when I'm so far away."

"You did make it safely, then?"

"Yes. I'm in Mary's car right now, on my way to her house."

"Good."

She sighed. "It's cold here, Gil."

He laughed. "You knew it would be before you left."

"Yes, but I had forgotten just _how_ cold it gets here."

He chuckled again. "Wear a warmer sweater tomorrow."

"Yes, Mom."

He smiled. "I miss you," he said quietly.

"I miss you, too," she replied. "I'll call you later, okay?"

"Okay. Tell Mary hello."

"I will. Have fun at work."

He smiled. "I'll try."

"And, stay safe."

"I will."

"Good." She paused. "Good night, Gil."

"Good night, Sara."

* * *

"You look like hell."

"Hi, Catherine. Nice to see you, too," Grissom replied.

Catherine closed his office door and stepped all the way in, sitting down across his desk from him. "When did Sara leave?"

Grissom sighed, knowing there would be no easy way to get rid of Catherine. He took off his glasses and set them on top of the papers on his desk. "This afternoon."

Catherine nodded. "Have you slept at all?"

"No."

"Why don't you take tonight off? The guys and I can –"

"No," Grissom interrupted, his tone enough to tell her that arguing would be useless. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, Cath, but I really just don't want to be at home right now. I want to stay busy."

Catherine held his eyes for a long moment, then nodded. "Okay. But, remember, if you do decide you need some time …"

"I know. Thank you."

She nodded again. "She still loves you, Gil."

A faint smile crossed his face. "I know."

Catherine stood up. "If you need anything …"

"I know," he said yet again.

She nodded and left him alone, gently closing the door behind her. For all he had said about wanting to stay busy, she was fairly certain that he needed some privacy. The last thing he needed was Hodges running in to _talk_.

* * *

"You picked a great time to visit," Mary said the next morning as she, Sara and Josie had breakfast together. "This is spring break week. No work for me."

Sara grinned. "I have a feeling that's not entirely true. Aren't you working on getting published?"

"No work outside the house, then, Miss Literal," Mary said, rolling her eyes. "You know what I mean."

"Tom doesn't get spring break?"

"He's research faculty, not teaching faculty," Mary said. "He does teach a class, but it's mostly lab time for him, so … No. He doesn't take a break."

"Harsh."

"He'll take a few weeks in the summer," she said with a shrug. "We're thinking of taking Josie to Disney World."

"Oh, Mary! She'll love it!"

"I know," Mary said with a smile. "The thing is, she won't _remember_ it. So, we're debating. Should we go now, or wait until she's older?"

"Tough call."

"Yeah. I guess the park isn't going anywhere, though, right?"

"I'd hope not."

A comfortable silence fell, broken by Josie asking to go play. After making sure that she had eaten all her breakfast – "she likes to hide food for some reason," Mary explained – Mary released her from her booster seat and sent her to her toys.

"So," Mary said, looking across the table at Sara, "are you ready to talk now?"

"We've been talking all morning," Sara said evasively.

"You know exactly what I mean, Sidle, so stop playing dumb."

"Ouch. The last name. You must be serious."

"Sara …"

Sara sighed. "What do you want me to say, Mar? That I miss Grissom? That I hate this? That I'm totally messed up and can't stand being in my own skin anymore?"

"If that's what you want to tell me, then, yes."

Tears filled Sara's eyes; she impatiently wiped them away. "I miss him, Mar. A lot."

"Yeah," Mary said quietly, "I'm sure you do."

"He's it for me, Mary. I know that in my very core. He truly is the only man I've ever loved, and he's the only one I _will_ ever love." She gave a hollow laugh. "We've walked in and out of each other's lives so many times that it's absurd at this point."

"Why is that, do you think?"

She shrugged. "It doesn't mean I love him any less, if that's what you mean."

"That's not what I mean at all." Mary smiled slightly. "It either means that you are the two most masochistic people in the world or that you are totally, completely meant for each other."

"Nice, Mar."

"I'm serious! Think about it: Either the two of you totally get off on tormenting yourselves, or, no matter what the circumstances or distance, you find a way to love one another so deeply that the distance can somehow … melt away."

"Well, it's not doing such a good job of melting right now, that's for sure." Sara shook her head. "I just wish there was some way I could stay in Vegas. I wish …" She looked way and nearly whispered, "I could put myself back together without him watching all the crumbling apart."

"Oh, Sara," Mary sighed.

She shook her head as tears gathered in her eyes. "I've spent my entire life running and hiding, Mary. And, now, I think it's time for me to stop that."

"That sounds healthy."

She nodded. "And, Mar …"

"Yes?"

"I need to start that process right now. With you."

"What do you mean, Sara?"

She drew a deep breath. "I need to tell you about my family."


	33. A New Start

A/N: I feel like I've been working on this chapter forever. There's so much that I wanted perfect for Sara in it. I'm pretty pleased with the end result.

I've taken everything we've learned about Sara and her parents through US aired season 11 and tried to meld it into this chapter. I hope you like the way it works.

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone who celebrates it!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_A New Start_

"Your family?" Mary repeated. A thrill of anticipation shot through her. Sara so rarely mentioned her family that Mary hardly gave them any thought. She was ashamed to realize that she had never considered that a dark history could be the reason Sara never spoke of them.

"Yes," Sara said. Her hands shook slightly; she clasped them together, stunned by how cold they were. She cleared her throat. "I think that all my … problems … start there."

"Okay," Mary said slowly.

"My father was abusive," Sara said slowly. She forced herself to look into Mary's eyes, to _know_ that she was sharing this part of herself with someone other than Grissom or a therapist. "Physically, verbally, emotionally … Yet, I have so many good memories of him." She shook her head as if it all confused her. "Because, a lot of the time, he was the 'good parent.'" She drew a deep breath. "My mother didn't leave him, largely because she didn't think she could survive on her own. She was schizophrenic."

Horror filled Mary's face. "Oh, Sara."

"She was okay when she was on her meds," Sara said. "I've got plenty of good memories of her from my childhood, too." She looked away for a moment, then looked back. "The strange thing is, I don't have any good memories of the two of them together. When Mom was okay, Dad was hitting one of us. When Dad was being nice, it was because Mom was off her meds and delusional."

She shivered. "They would fight so much. I was so little, Mar. I remember hiding under my covers, wishing that it would stop. I remember my mom apologizing for making me hear it. I remember thinking it was normal."

"Sara, it's not."

"I know that now. I learned that when I was … I'm getting ahead of myself."

Mary nodded.

"One thing I've learned as a CSI is that abused women will only take so much before they snap. And, when they do, it's rarely pretty. If you take an abused woman who has schizophrenia off her meds, that snapping point can be explosive." She paused and swallowed. "My parents had a horrible fight. I could hear them the whole time … then it ended. Everything got quiet. I thought it was safe to go to sleep." She looked away, her eyes filling with tears. "So did my father, I guess. But, my mother …" A tear slipped down her cheek. "She got a knife …" She swallowed hard again. "She stabbed my father while he was asleep. In the heart." A shuddering breath escaped. "Repeatedly."

Mary reached across to grab her hand as tears raced down Sara's cheeks. She drew a raspy breath.

"I went into foster care after that, while my mother when to a psychiatric facility to await trial. I remember going to see her … God, it was awful. I was so scared, and she kept telling me that we'd be together again … every time I visited her, she said it was the last time I'd have to see her there …" She shook her head. "I know now that she was just trying to make me feel better. But, back then … I just felt like she was lying to me."

Sara looked away for a moment, trying to get her emotions under control. Mary tightened her grip on her friend's hand, wishing she knew the right words to say.

Sara finally drew a deep breath and looked at Mary again. "Foster care was … challenging," she said. "I lived with five different families. The first four were all rough. They weren't ready to deal with me, which is odd, considering that _all_ kids sent into foster care are damaged. But, either they already had too many kids and there just wasn't enough space, or they were better with little kids, or I didn't get along with the other fosters or with their own kids … I finally wound up with the Andersons, who were really great."

"How long were you there?" Mary dared to ask.

"A couple years," Sara replied. "They … taught me what a real family is. Most kids learn that from their own parents, you know? I didn't. They taught me what a loving marriage is. How children are supposed to be treated. That everyone should laugh every day. That violence has no place in a family."

"They must be very special people," Mary said.

Sara nodded. "They are."

"You were lucky to have them when you needed them."

Sara nodded slowly. "I love my parents. As crazy as it sounds, I really do. And, I'm glad my mother has received enough treatment that she stays on her meds now. I'm glad that I got to live with her again before I graduated from high school. I'm glad we have a good relationship now. But, I'm truly _grateful_ that I got to live with Nancy and Steve Anderson. They … Mar, I cried so much when I had to leave them. I felt terrible about it, because I was leaving them to go back to live with my mother. But … I was happy with them in a way that I never was with my own parents. They taught me what it means to truly be happy."

Mary squeezed her hand. "I'm glad you had them."

Sara's eyes widened as the realization came over her. "Nancy and Steve made me who I am today … maybe even more than my own parents did."

"We have so many different influences in our lives, Sara," Mary said softly. "Family doesn't have to be the people you're tied to by biology. I've thought of you as a sister ever since we were freshmen."

Sara smiled and squeezed Mary's hand. "I know. You're a sister to me, too. And, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Greg … they're my Vegas family. And, Nancy and Steve … They really were _parents_ to me."

"Are you saying that you can see the silver lining in a horrific experience?" Mary asked slowly.

"I've never thought of it like that before," Sara said, her eyes still wide with revelation. "I've always concentrated on the worst parts … on the violence … on the horror. But, Mary, if it hadn't been for all of that, I never would have met Nancy and Steve. I never would have known what a good relationship is. I never would have been able to love Grissom the way that I do."

"All the experiences in our lives leave their mark, Sara," Mary said. "Both the good and the bad. We need to choose what lessons we're willing to take from them, and how we're willing to let them shape the people we become." She paused. "You are your parents' daughter. Without them, you would not exist. But, Sar, that doesn't mean that you _are_ your parents. You're Sara. You're the woman who lived through a horrible childhood, who found a family with strangers, who put herself through some of the most intense academic institutions in the country, who has a brilliant career, caring friends, a loving fiancé …" She squeezed Sara's hand again. "You have to choose, love. Which of those things make up the _real_ Sara Sidle? Is it the good or the bad?"

Another tear broke free and slid down Sara's cheek.

Mary grabbed both of Sara's hands and smiled. "I think we both already know the answer."

Sara held Mary's eyes for a moment, then gently disengaged her hands. "I … I'm going to go play with Josie for a bit."

Knowing that Sara needed time to process everything, Mary nodded. "I'm sure she'll be happy to have a playmate."

Sara nodded absently, and got up from the table. Mary watched as she walked into the living room and sat down with Josie, who was playing with her dollhouse.

"Hey, Josie," Sara said. "Can I play with you?"

"Yes," Josie said with a smile, handing Sara a doll. "You be the mommy."

Sara smiled. "Okay."

After watching them for a moment, Mary got up to clear the table. She had a feeling that, even if it was a long road back, Sara was going to be just fine.

* * *

Mary decided to leave Sara and Josie alone for as long as possible. Sara knew where she was, and could seek her out if she needed to talk. Once she had finished cleaning up the kitchen from breakfast, Mary went into her home office to work.

It wasn't until the grandfather clock that had been a wedding gift from Tom's parents chimed twelve that Mary realized how late it was. More surprised that Sara had not given up on playing with Josie than anything, Mary stretched her arms over her head, then got up and went to find her friend and her daughter.

They were still in the living room, cuddled together on the couch. Josie was snuggled in Sara's lap listening to a story. Mary grinned at the sight, thinking not for the first time that Sara would make a great mother.

"Hey, girls. Ready for some lunch?"

"Mommy!" Josie crawled off Sara's lap and ran to greet her mother.

"Hi, baby," Mary said, lifting her up into her arms.

Sara stood up and smiled. "Is it that late?"

"It's just now noon," Mary said. She looked at Sara closely. "Are you okay?"

Sara nodded. "I feel … lighter." She looked down then back up again. "And, a bit guilty. I feel like I dumped a lot on you."

"Sara, please. That's what friends are for."

Sara smiled slightly. "Hanging out with Josie helps, too."

Mary turned to Josie with a smile. "What did you do with Auntie Sara?"

"We played with my dollhouse, and with my kitchen, and with my babies, and with my puppies, and read books," Josie said.

"You did a lot," Mary acknowledged, looking at Sara. "Aunt Sara must be tired."

Sara smiled. "It's a good tired."

Mary grinned. "Keep this up, and I'll never let you leave. I got a ton of work done this morning."

"I could do that," Sara mused. "Forget being a CSI. I'll be your nanny."

Mary laughed. "Well, that means that you can make lunch, Nanny."

"Okay," Sara agreed. "I hope you've got Josie on a vegetarian diet, or she'll be disappointed."

"She's good with just about anything," Mary said. "Come on, Sar. This is your audition to become her full-time nanny."

Sara laughed. "I hope I make the cut."

"Well, you've already won over the toughest critic," Mary said, adjusting Josie on her hip. "She's the one to impress here."

"Mar, why _don't_ I watch her?" Sara said ask they walked into the kitchen.

"I'm kidding, Sara. You don't have to be my daughter's nanny."

"But, I'm serious," Sara said. "You've got a lot of work to do, and I know it can't be easy to get anything done with Josie wanting you to play with her all day. I don't have anything to do right now … it just makes sense. Besides, it'll give me some time to bond with my goddaughter."

"You're really serious?"

"Of course. Please, Mary, let me do this." _Let me have a sense of purpose again!_

"Okay, sure," Mary agreed. "Why not? I'd be an idiot to turn down free babysitting."

"I don't know how free it is, since you're letting me stay here," Sara said with a grin.

Mary waved her hand as if to wave off Sara's comment. "You're family, Sara. You belong here."

* * *

After a week of playing nanny to Josie, Sara was ready to admit that the life of a stay at home mother was not for her. It was exhausting in a way that working the graveyard shift never had been, in way that pulling double and triples never had been, and in a way that gave her new respect for all the mothers who did stay at home with their children.

"Not as easy as it looks, huh?" Mary said with a grin as she walked into the kitchen, where Sara was making lunch and trying to avoid stepping on Josie, who was running in circles around the room and shrieking.

"I don't know how you do this," Sara confessed, pushing a wayward strand of hair back from her face.

"I don't," Mary confessed. "When Tom and I are both at work, she's in daycare. I'm only a stay at home mom during breaks."

"Well, it's exhausting," Sara said.

"I know," Mary said, catching Josie on her next pass through the kitchen. She tossed her up in the air, then settled her on her hip. "I think it's time for quiet time, Josie-Jos," she said. "Let's have lunch without screaming, okay?"

She put her in her booster seat, and Sara set her food in front of her. Josie immediately fell silent as she concentrated on feeding herself.

"So … how are you?" Mary asked, sitting down at the table. "This is so strange, since you're right in the house with me, but I feel like we never talk."

"I know. I didn't want to bother you while you're writing."

"You're never a bother," Mary said. "What's up?"

"I keep thinking of what you said," Sara said. "About choosing which experiences shape who we are." She looked away for a moment, then met Mary's eyes again. "When my father died, it was front-page news. We lived outside of San Francisco in a pretty small community, so word would have spread fast even without the media's help. I was only out of school for a week – they wanted me to go back as quickly as possible so I could stay as 'normal' as possible."

"That's harsh," Mary said.

Sara nodded. "I was always really quiet, so I never had many friends. But, after … I wasn't even Sara anymore. I was The Girl Whose Father Was Stabbed To Death." Tears filled her eyes. "No one would talk to me … the looks I got …" She shuddered. "Honestly, Mar, one of the biggest reasons I never told you was that I was afraid it would change how you thought of me."

"Sara –"

"At first," Sara amended. "I've known for a long time that it wouldn't matter, but …" She shrugged. "Hiding it was sort of a habit."

"Yeah," Mary said quietly.

"I think …" Sara drew a deep breath. "In a lot of ways, I've been The Girl Whose Father Was Stabbed To Death ever since that night. I've let that one experience – and everything that led up to it and that came after it – define me." She shook her head. "And, Mary … I can't do that anymore. I've got to move on."

Mary reached across to grab Sara's hand. Tears shone in her eyes. "Sara … you're going to be okay. You really, truly are going to be okay."

Sara's tears spilled over.

* * *

"So, I was thinking … do you want to take Josie ice skating tomorrow?"

Sara looked at Mary across the table they were setting for dinner. "Isn't she a bit small for that?"

"They have these special ice skates for little kids – they have two blades, like training wheels. I thought it would be fun. Remember when we went ice skating when we were in school?"

"I remember falling a lot," Sara said with a chuckle. "Remember when we went with those engineering boys freshmen year? That was the first time I had ever gone skating."

"I remember," Mary said with a far-off smile. "And, I remember being jealous over that – you got to hang on to your guy all night, while mine was busy showing off because I didn't need help."

"Not much came of it either way," Sara said with a smile.

"No," Mary agreed. "Anyway, I thought we could take Josie to that same rink."

"Seriously? Outdoor skating?"

"Why bother with indoor?"

"We'll freeze!"

"We'll wear coats. You, my dear, spent too many years in a warm climate. We need to get you re-acclimated to a good, northern winter."

Sara shook her head, but smiled. "Okay. What time do you want to go?"

"Maybe right after breakfast," Mary said. "That way we can come home for lunch and then Josie can take a nap."

"That's a good plan."

"Hi, girls."

Tom came into the kitchen carrying Josie, who was trying desperately to tell him about the game she had played with Aunt Sara as he leaned down to kiss Mary.

"I didn't hear you come in," Mary said.

"Well, you're hiding back here in the kitchen," he said. "I caught up with the munchkin in the living room. By the way, shouldn't at least one of you two responsible adults attempt to keep an eye on her?"

"What was she doing?" Mary asked, already picturing her walls covered in crayon.

"Playing with her dolls," he said with a shrug. "It's what she _could have_ been doing that worries me."

Mary rolled her eyes and took Josie from Tom to put her in her chair. "You worry too much. Sit down. We just finished dinner."

He grinned. "Don't mind if I do."

"How's everything going at the lab?" Sara asked as she sat down.

Tom cleared his throat and glanced at Mary. She shrugged as if to say _it's up to you_. Sara glanced between them a bit nervously.

"Oh, no. What's that look all about?"

"Mary and I have been talking about this for about a week," Tom said. "She wasn't sure how you'd react, but I think you have the right to make up your own mind."

"Okay," Sara said slowly. "Well, since I have no idea what you're talking about, I'm going to side with you over Mary."

Tom smiled. "I knew you would." He cleared his throat again. "So, Sara, we have an opening for another physicist at the lab. It's completely research; no teaching involved." He looked directly into her eyes. "I'd like to throw your name in for the position."

Sara's eyes widened in surprise.

"You'd be on my team, so we'd be lab partners again," Tom said. "I'm working on …" He trailed off and glanced at Mary. "Okay, Mar and I have a strict rule about not discussing our research or work at the dinner table, so we can talk about all of that later. But, if you'd like the job, I can put in a good word for you." He smiled. "Okay, I can almost guarantee that you'll have it if you just send in a resume."

"How can you be so sure?" Sara stammered. "I only finished my Masters – I don't have a PhD – I haven't worked in research – all my work experience has been in criminalistics and forensics – I haven't even done traditional research since grad school –"

"But, your forensics experience is just what I need," Tom said. "And, I know about your degrees, but you've been published, which is more than a lot of the doctoral candidates we have applying for these positions can say."

"Oh," she said in a small voice.

"I know you're in a pretty uncertain place right now," Tom said. "And, I'll completely understand if you don't want to live in Boston. Feel free to tell me to take this job and shove it." He smiled. "I just wanted to throw it out there. I'd love to have you on my team, but I want that to be what _you_ want before you tell me yes."

Sara nodded slowly. "Let me think about it."

"Not a problem."

She nodded again. She needed time to figure out exactly what she did want.

But, it would be nice to have a job while she was figuring that out.


	34. No Good Option

A/N: Talk about the chapter that did not want to be written! I hope you'll enjoy it.

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_No Good Option_

The phone rang three times in her ear as Sara held it with shaking hands. Finally, he answered.

"Hi," Grissom said, his warm smile reaching across the country to her.

"Hi," she replied with a smile of her own, loving that she could tell just by the sound of his voice that he was smiling at her. It helped to calm her nerves. "What's up?"

"I'm sitting here with Hank, watching a hockey game."

Sara arched an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Are you telling me my baseball man is turning into a hockey fan?"

"Well, it's not exactly baseball season, dear," he teased.

She laughed. "I miss you," she said quietly.

"I miss you, too," he said. "Tell me what you've been doing."

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him about Tom's job offer, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Tom had only mentioned it the night before, and Sara was still struggling to wrap her mind around it. She couldn't bring herself to tell Grissom about it yet. There was no point in giving him something new to worry about.

"Sara? Did I lose you?"

"No, I'm still here."

"Good. So, what have you been up to?" he asked again.

"Babysitting," she answered honestly. "Josie and I are becoming best friends."

"Good," Grissom said. "She's your goddaughter; you should know her well."

Sara smiled. "I'd like it if she knew you just as well as she does me."

"You want me to take your babysitting job from you?"

"No," she said with a smile. "I want you to come here for a visit."

"When?"

"You tell me," she replied. "You're the one who has to organize his vacation time."

"Let me look at the schedule and talk to Catherine tomorrow. Can I call you when I get off work?"

"So … sometime tomorrow evening?" Sara teased.

"I'll leave on time."

"Sure you will."

Grissom sighed. He couldn't deny that he had worked plenty of doubles and triples since she had left. There didn't seem to be much point in coming home to an empty house.

"I'm teasing, Griss," Sara said as his silence stretched on.

"I know," he said, trying to lighten up. "I guess … I just … miss you."

She smiled. "You already said that."

"Maybe it bears repeating."

"I know something else that bears repeating."

"What's that?" Grissom asked.

"I love you."

A feeling of warmth spread through him. "I love you, too."

* * *

"Hey," Sara said as she walked into the living room where Mary was reading.

"Hey," Mary said, looking up at her friend. She marked her place in her book and set it down. "What's up?"

"Grissom called back. He said he'll be here on Saturday morning."

Mary looked surprised. "That was fast."

"I know," Sara replied. "I know that Catherine would have had him on the first flight out when he told her that he wanted to visit me, but, I also know that Ecklie is a pain in the ass. Saturday was probably a compromise."

Mary laughed. "He'll stay here, too, right?"

"Um … no."

"No?"

"He's going to stay in a hotel."

"A hotel?" Mary repeated. "Talk about an unnecessary expense! You know Tom and I would love to have Grissom here."

"No, this is better. I … um … I'm going to stay there with him." Sara grinned even as she blushed. "Let's just remember, it's been a long time since I've seen him."

Mary laughed. "Dirty girl."

"Hey, I think 'good friend' is what you meant to say! I'm making an effort _not_ to traumatize you or your family."

"Yes, but by putting the very idea in my head, I think you've already got me well on my way to trauma."

Sara laughed. "You'll live. You've heard far worse from me in the past – much of it being your own fault."

Mary laughed even harder. "Hey, I'm _still_ not a member of the mile high club! Is it so wrong to ask my best friend for details about membership?"

"Did your best friend give you those details?"

Mary grinned. "Of course she did. She always does."

"Then it wasn't wrong to ask."

"Look, we've shared far too much over the years," Mary said. "We both know it. But, this time around, I am _not_ going ask you for details. If I know too much, I'll never be able to look at Grissom with a straight face!"

Sara laughed again. "Fair enough, Mar. Fair enough."

Mary sobered and gave Sara the penetrating look that had always broken through the walls she constructed around herself. "Did you tell him about what Tom suggested?"

Sara sighed. "No."

"Don't you think you should?" Mary asked slowly.

"I don't know what I want to do yet," Sara said, shaking her head slowly.

"Isn't that why you should talk to Grissom about it?" Mary persisted. "He can help you decide. And, honey, you've got to remember that this isn't just about you. It's about him, too."

"I know," Sara said, running her hands through her hair in frustration. "That's what makes it so difficult! Mary, if it weren't for Gil, I would have given Tom my resume as soon as we finished dinner the other day. This is an opportunity for me to see what my life would have been like if I had stayed the course the first time around, rather than going into forensics. It's something I've always sort of wanted to try. To work with scientists of this caliber would be amazing."

"But …" Mary prompted.

"But, there's Grissom," Sara sighed. "Las Vegas is his home, and the lab is his life. I can't ask him to give that up because I want to pursue a career all the way across the country. And … I don't want to build a new life without him."

"So … what are you thinking?"

Sara shook her head. "I don't know. Too much, probably."

Mary grabbed her hand. "Talk to him, Sar. See what he says. He might be able to help you more than you know."

Sara nodded slowly. "All right. But, I want to wait until he gets here. I don't think this is the sort of conversation we should have over the phone."

* * *

Giddy excitement rolled through Sara as she watched the steady stream of people walking to baggage claim. She searched their faces, looking for the one person she was almost desperate to see.

He found her first, craning her neck in the wrong direction to see him. Smiling broadly, he walked quickly toward her.

"Hi," he said when he was close enough.

"Gil!" Sara exclaimed, flinging her arms around his neck.

"Hello, love," he whispered against her hair.

She pulled back to look at him, unable to stop her fingers from running over his face. "You grew the beard back."

"Do you mind?" he asked. His tone was light, but his eyes suggested that he would shave if she requested it.

She shook her head. "I love it."

Grissom smiled, then leaned in to kiss her. "I love you," he whispered against her lips.

"I love you, too."

Grissom kissed her again, then released her from his embrace, almost immediately grabbing her hand and lacing his fingers through hers. "So."

She smiled up at him. "So."

"What's on our agenda?"

"First, we need to get your luggage."

"Good start. And, then?"

"Are you hungry?"

He gave her a smoldering look. He dropped her hand and pulled her to him. "_Starving_."

Sara blushed. "Down, boy. It's still too early to check in at the hotel, so Mary's at home making an insanely huge brunch for all of us."

Grissom released her again. "Well, that sounds very nice, too."

Sara laughed. "This is all your fault for taking the red eye. If you would have picked a later flight, we could go straight to the hotel now and then meet Mary and Tom for dinner later."

Grissom shook his head. "Once I get you to the hotel, we aren't leaving it for at least twenty-four hours. Maybe more."

Sara's eyebrows shot up. "Griss!"

He laughed at the look on her face. "It's been a long month, Sara."

"Yeah," Sara sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. "It has."

"Come on," Grissom said. "Let's get my bag so we can get out of here."

* * *

Sara stood wrapped in her bathrobe, watching the snow fall outside the hotel room window. Grissom was sleeping, oblivious to the fact that he was missing out on what was shaping to be several inches of snow.

Sara sighed and leaned her forehead against the cool glass. _What am I going to do? Why would Tom even suggest that I … and, why would Mary let him?_

She sighed again. She knew very well that she was glad that Tom had offered her a job. She just wasn't happy with the options is presented her.

She started as Grissom's arms encircled her from behind. He leaned his chin on her terrycloth-covered shoulder and kissed her neck.

"You're awake," Sara almost whispered.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" he asked.

Sara shook her head. "Not yet." She turned in his arms and smiled at him. "Right now, we're going outside. I want to play in the snow."

"I didn't bring my snowsuit," Grissom said, only half teasing.

"I don't care. We're going to build a snowman."

"Honey, I'm not sure that's a good idea …"

Sara smiled and kissed him. "Humor me?"

He smiled and brushed a wayward strand of hair back from her face. "I'm glad I brought thick socks."

* * *

Once outside, Grissom and Sara decided on a snowy walk rather than the snowman building Sara had proposed – Grissom managed to convince her that the hotel staff probably would not be thrilled with a snowman among the landscaping. Instead, they went to a nearby park for a stroll. Sara was more than happy to hold Grissom's hand as they ambled along among the falling snow.

"It's beautiful here in the winter, isn't it?" she sighed, turning her face up to let snowflakes fall on it.

"Yes," Grissom agreed, tightening his grip on her hand. "When I was at Williams last winter, I wanted _this_ more than anything."

"This?" Sara repeated.

He nodded. "To walk with you in the snow. It just … seems magical, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Sara said, smiling at him. "It does."

"Sara …"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me," Grissom implored. "Tell me what has you so upset."

Sara shook her head. "I don't know how to tell you."

A look of fear dimmed the light in Grissom's eyes. "Are you ill? Have you gotten –"

"No!" Sara said quickly. _Better to tell him the truth than have him think I'm dying_. "No, nothing like that. I'm fine, I promise."

"Okay," Grissom said slowly.

Sara drew a deep breath. "It's … Gil, Tom offered me a job. With him. Here. In Boston."

He felt like he had been sucker-punched. His fantasies about asking her to come home with him evaporated. "And, you want to take it." Grissom's words, not even a question, fell flat around them.

"I … don't know."

"Yes, you do," Grissom said. "You've been unemployed and aimless for months. I'll bet you haven't gone this long without working since you were sixteen."

Sara smiled in silent acknowledgement of his words.

Grissom studied her closely. "But … you _don't_ want to take the job, too, right?"

"I want to do it," Sara said. "But, Gil, this isn't just about me. It's about you, too, and, more importantly, us."

They sat down on the nearest park bench and looked at each other.

"What do you want me to say, Sara?" Grissom finally asked, breaking the silence that had fallen.

"I want you to tell me what you want me to do."

Grissom looked away for a long moment. "Honey, I think you know what I want as well as I know what you want."

Sara nodded. He wanted her with him in Vegas.

"But, Sara, maybe … maybe we can find a compromise. Maybe … we can keep going as we have been."

"Can we?" Sara asked. "Do you really believe that?"

"It's not ideal," Grissom acknowledged. "It's not what I want, and I don't think it's what you want. But … if my work keeps me in Las Vegas, and yours keeps you here, then we're left with two options: We agree to a long-distance relationship, or we end it."

Sara gasped. "Gil …"

"Sara, I love you," Grissom said. "I don't want this – what we have – to end. And, if that means that we keep going with our long-distance relationship, then that's what we'll do."

Tears gathered in Sara's eyes. "I don't like that idea."

The light seemed to go out of Grissom's eyes. He cleared his throat. "So, then, you'd rather we …"

"No!" Sara shook her head violently, letting a tear streak down her cheek. "I don't want to lose you, Gil. If those are my options – losing you or losing this job opportunity – then, you win. Every time. I can work anywhere."

Grissom smiled slightly, his racing heart slowing back to a more normal rhythm. "I'm not asking you to make that choice, Sara. If you want to stay here and work with Tom, I'll support you. We have phones, email, frequent flier miles … We can make it work. But, if you want to come back to Vegas …" He trailed off and squeezed her hand. "The house really is too big for one person."

Sara looked away for a moment, then looked back at him. "Most little girls dream of their wedding day," she said. "They dream of finding Prince Charming, having a big, white dress, moving into a two-story house and raising their three children together.

"I never dreamed of any of those things," she continued, "until I met you."

Grissom's expression softened.

"You were the one who made me want the wedding gown and the white picket fence. You were the one who made me want to be a mother." She squeezed his hand. "You were the one who made me want a _future_, rather than existing only for the here and now."

Grissom raised her hand to his lips. "You gave me that same thing."

Sara smiled. "But, Grissom, I still don't necessarily want any of those things in the traditional sense. I'd rather have our wedding on a beach somewhere, not in a church. I'd rather keep the house in the city than move to the suburbs. And, if Hank is the only 'baby' we're ever meant to have, then so be it." She paused. "Gil, it's _our_ future I want, not the one everyone else thinks we should have. We haven't done anything by the book so far. Why start now?"

Grissom exhaled. "So, that's it, then? You're going to stay here? We're going to continue our long-distance relationship?"

Sara tipped her head. "For now." Concern clouded her eyes. "As long as that's okay with you?"

"Your happiness is what matters to me. If you're happy, Sara, then we can make it work."


	35. Reinvention

A/N: Thanks for your patience in waiting for this one. Real life has taken over – and, the writers' block didn't help! I hope you enjoy this next installment.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. I also claim no ownership of "Horton Hears a Who," which I'm using in this chapter to wish Dr. Suess a happy birthday!

* * *

_Reinvention_

Grissom sat up in bed, watching Sara sleep. How many times had he done this very thing? He had no way of quantifying it, but was certain that the number had increased exponentially since her abduction.

He could easily remember the first time he had watched her sleep. They were conducting an experiment with a blanket-wrapped pig to determine time of death of a woman whose husband had killed her. Sara had only worked with them for a few months at that point, but Grissom had already learned that she could stay awake for what seemed like days if she needed to. He was, therefore, surprised to see her nodding off after only five hours of watching the increasing insect activity.

_She looked absolutely adorable with her head bobbing as she tried desperate to stay awake. In that moment, he felt that he had a fairly good idea of what she must have been like as a little girl. Sensing him watching her as she fought off sleep, she looked at him, her cheeks flushing a deep red._

"_Sara … you don't have to be here," he said. "Go home and get some sleep."_

_She shook her head. "I want to be here."_

"_Okay."_

_Twenty minutes later, her head bobbed for the final time and came to rest on his shoulder. He looked down at her, feeling a tingling warmth spread through his shoulder. He exhaled, hoping she would sleep for a while. He rather liked being her pillow._

It wasn't until years later that he got to be her pillow again. It never lost its appeal for him, but, his observation of those stolen moments changed. He wasn't just happy that she felt comfortable enough to fall asleep on him anymore – he started watching her face as she slept. He loved the window into her soul that these rare, unguarded moments provided.

When he had first started watching her face in sleep, he had been pleased to see how calm she looked. Cases that bothered her, disagreements with Catherine, even arguments with him disappeared as she entered a dream world where he could not follow.

After her abduction, when he found himself watching her sleep almost every day, her face had always looked pinched with worry and fear in her sleep. He wondered what demons were chasing her in her dreams, and what he could do to make them leave her alone.

Sara sighed in her sleep and rolled so that she was facing him. What he saw nearly took his breath away.

For the first time since before Natalie had stormed into her life, Sara looked … relaxed. Calm. At peace. Like the sleeping Sara he remembered from before Natalie. _Finally_.

In that moment, he realized that they would be okay. Their relationship could survive the long-distance restrictions. He had a feeling that it would be even stronger. Sara wasn't staying away because of him, she was staying away because she had found a job that would fulfill her in a way that working in the lab simply couldn't at the moment. He could understand that, couldn't he? It was the same reason that had driven him away from her to take a position at Williams.

She burrowed her face into her pillow in a motion that he knew meant she was waking up. Not surprisingly, only moments later she opened her eyes and smiled up at him.

"Hi," she said, her voice raspy with sleep.

"Hi," he replied, reaching out to brush a strand of hair back from her face.

"You're up early." She grabbed his hand from her face and began playing with his fingers.

He shrugged. "Jet lag. My internal clock has no idea what time it is."

She smiled. "Well, I suppose you've had time to plan out our day, then."

He nodded. "I have."

"And?"

"Today, we're going to find you a place to live."

She looked at him with wide eyes.

"If you're going to stay here to work with Tom, you'll need a place." He raised an eyebrow. "Unless, of course, you want to live with him and Mary forever."

Sara shook her head. "I just … I didn't think you'd want to be a part of that."

"Why not?"

It was her turn to shrug. "If I stay here, I'm not going back with you. I didn't think you'd want to _help_ with that whole process."

"Sara." His expression was pained. "Do you really think that I'm that selfish? I want you to be happy, first and foremost. Living in Boston and working with Tom is what makes you happy. Why wouldn't I want to help you make that happen?"

Tears clouded Sara's eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry for thinking … I love you, Gil."

Grissom leaned down to kiss her. "I love you, too."

Sara grabbed his neck to pull him into a deeper kiss. Grissom smiled against her lips.

"If you keep that up, we're going to be in bed for quite a while longer."

Sara returned the smile. "That's the idea."

Grinning at her, Grissom kissed her again.

* * *

After a leisurely breakfast, Grissom and Sara found a coffee shop that sold several local papers. They grabbed one of each, ordered steaming mugs of tea, and took a seat at one of the small tables. They spent the next hour combing through the apartment listings, circling all those that met Sara's criteria – close to work, close to Mary, hardwood floors, and, if it stated, above the first floor.

Once they had assembled a list of likely prospects, they began calling them all, setting up appointments to view them. They spread them out over the early part of the week, but did schedule five for that day.

"Do you think this is too ambitious?" Sara asked, looking at the list of apartments and the times they were to visit them.

Grissom shrugged. "You know the area. Are they far apart?"

"No, which is sort of the point," Sara replied. She gave him a saucy smile. "I forgot. You don't know your way around Boston."

"I know how to find some things," Grissom said defensively.

Sara grinned. "You do not."

"Yes, I do," Grissom countered. He couldn't help but smile back at her. "I think I can find my way back to the hotel from here."

Sara's grin widened. "Admit it: You'd be lost without me."

He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "In more ways than one."

* * *

Remembering exactly how long it had taken them to find their house in Las Vegas, Grissom was shocked when Sara turned to him with shining eyes while standing in the kitchen of the first apartment they saw.

"I love this place," she said. "I want it."

Grissom raised his eyebrows. "You're sure?"

"Yes! It's on the fourth floor … it has hardwood and tile floors … it has huge windows … it's fifteen minutes from work, from Mary and from a shopping center … it has an updated kitchen and bathroom …" She grinned. "It's perfect."

"You don't want to look at the others, just to make sure?"

She shook her head. "No need. This is it."

Grissom shrugged helplessly. "As my lady wishes."

She giggled and turned to the landlord. "I'll take it. What do I need to fill out?"

Half an hour later, Sara had filled out the necessary paperwork, and she and Grissom were sitting in her car, cancelling all the future apartment visits they had arranged. When they had completed that task, Grissom turned to her and shook his head.

"What?" Sara asked.

"I fully expected this to be a month-long project," he said. "I never thought we'd get it done in one afternoon."

Sara smiled a bittersweet smile. "It's not like last time, Gil," she said softly. "This apartment just has to be … comfortable. Our house had to be _home_."

Grissom held her eyes for a long moment and nodded. "Yeah," he finally agreed.

"Come on," Sara said. "I want to go to Ikea to look at furniture."

Grissom mentally sighed. "Of course you do." The only good thing about Ikea, as far as he was concerned, was that Vegas did not have one; the only time he darkened its doors was when he was in an Ikea-friendly city with Sara.

She laughed. "I know you love Ikea."

He shook his head. "You, I love. Ikea … I can tolerate because you love it."

"Like I said … you love it."

Grissom laughed. "Believe what you'd like to believe, my dear."

She gave him a cheeky grin. "In this case … I will."

* * *

The Ikea trip was, as Lindsey would say, epic. Sara had to choose furniture for every room of the apartment, and took her time making each decision. They went around the store so many times that Grissom nearly felt as though he were walking in permanent circles.

By the end of the very long afternoon, Sara had managed to choose furniture for her bedroom and living room. She would probably have purchased more, but they had to leave to make it to Mary's house in time for dinner. All Grissom could see in that was that they would have to return to Ikea in the near future for the rest of the apartment.

Grissom felt utterly exhausted as Sara parked their car in Mary's driveway that evening. Sara looked at him with concern as they walked up to her front door.

"Are you okay?"

"Just tired," he replied.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry. I totally forgot how jet lagged and sleep-deprived you are."

He shook his head. "Sara, I'm fine."

"Gilbert, you look terrible."

He smiled. "Is that any way to compliment the man you love?"

She shook her head. "We'll just have dinner with Mary and Tom, then get you back to the hotel early so you can sleep. And, I'll take it easier on you tomorrow, I promise."

He gave her a wicked grin. "Does that mean you'll let us stay in bed … all day?"

She brushed off the arm that was encircling her waist. "Be good."

"From what you've said before, I'm _very_ good."

"Gilbert!" Sara stopped with her hand on the doorknob. "We are entering a house with a toddler and two adults who do not want to know what we do behind closed doors! _Please_, stop with the innuendo."

Realizing that she was actually concerned, he stepped away from her. "I'm sorry, Sara. I didn't mean to embarrass you in front of your friends."

"No, that's not … Gil, I'm not embarrassed by you. Not at all. It's just … Mary and I have a long history of over-sharing, but we've agreed that we're not going to do that when it comes to my relationship with you. To be honest, I think she has too much respect for you to want to know any details of our sex life." She shrugged. "She thinks it would change her opinion of you."

"Ah." Grissom smiled slightly. "So, think of her as Catherine?"

Sara shook her head. "Think of her as Nick."

Grissom grinned. "Point taken."

Sara returned his grin, then opened Mary's front door. "Hello!" she called.

Josie's tiny footsteps rapidly filled the room as she ran to meet them at the door. "Hi!" she exclaimed.

"Hi, sweetie," Sara said with a smile. She leaned down to pick the little girl up, hugging her close. "Have you had a fun day?"

"Yes!"

"What did you play with?"

"My dollies, and my puppies, and my –"

"Hi," Mary said as she appeared in the front hall, cutting off Josie's litany of every toy she owned. "How did the apartment-hunting go?"

"Great," Sara said. "I found a place."

"That fast?"

"Yup."

"I was shocked, too," Grissom said, noting the surprise on Mary's face.

"Wow, Sara," Mary said, her eyes wide. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"You know what?" Sara said. "You both suck."

They looked at each other for a minute, then all three adults started laughing. Tom grinned as he joined them.

"Do I even want to know?" he asked, taking Josie from Sara.

"Probably not," Mary said, still chuckling. "Come on, guys. I'm just finishing dinner now."

"You come with me, Doctor," Tom said. "Mary and Sara have perfected their kitchen art at this point. We don't want to get in their way."

"I'll take your word for it," Grissom said, following Tom to the living room.

Mary rolled her eyes. "It's like being at my grandmother's on Christmas. The women stayed in the kitchen and cooked, and the men sat in the living room and talked."

"Well, it's better this way," Sara said. "If we had Chef Grissom in the kitchen with us, the ensuing chaos could be catastrophic."

"I thought Grissom was a good cook."

"Oh, he is. He's a phenomenal cook. He just … likes to take over."

Mary giggled. "A hazard of being a supervisor, I suppose."

"Yeah, probably."

"Well, let's get this done," Mary said. "I don't want to keep our menfolk waiting."

Chuckling, Sara followed Mary to the kitchen.

* * *

Despite Sara's intentions to leave as soon as dinner had ended, Josie had other plans. With some assistance from her father, she crawled down from her booster seat and into Grissom's lap. He smiled down at her.

"Hi, there," he said.

"Read me a story?" she asked, looking up at him with big, blue eyes.

His smile widened. "I'd be honored."

He set her on the floor and followed her to the living room. She waved her hand grandly at her bookcase.

"These are my books," she said.

"I see you have quite the collection," Grissom said. "What would you like to read?"

Josie considered her options for several long moments, then finally selected "Horton Hears a Who." She pulled the book off the shelf, and handed it to Grissom. He looked at the cover and smiled, remembering reading the same book to Lindsey when she had been a little girl.

"Come here," he said, sitting down on the couch.

Josie crawled up into his lap again, and waited patiently while he opened the book.

"Is this your favorite book?" he asked.

Josie considered his question. "No," she finally said. "I just like it."

He smiled. "I do, too."

With that, he began to read.

Sara and Mary stood in the archway and watched as Grissom read the book full of rhyming and made up words to his rapt audience. Mary looked at Sara's wistful smile and wrapped her arm around Sara's waist.

"Someday," she whispered.

Sara looked at her with bright eyes. "I hope so, Mary. I really, really hope so."

* * *

As they walked out of Mary's house and to their car, Sara grabbed Grissom's arm. He smiled at her.

"Do you know what I love?" she asked.

"What?"

"Watching you with Josie."

He smiled. "She's a sweet little girl."

Sara leaned up to kiss his cheek. "And, you're very sweet with her."

Grissom put his hand over the hand that clutched his arm and gently squeezed it. They looked into each other's eyes for a moment, sharing the unspoken promise of _someday_.


	36. Togetherness

A/N: This chapter contains a shout-out to my college roommates, even though they don't watch CSI or read fanfic, so they'll never know it was there. They were truly the inspiration for the Ikea-related scenes in Sara's apartment.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! Happy Earth Day!

I don't own CSI, Target or Ikea.

* * *

_Togetherness_

Jerked from a dream, Sara spent ten seconds completely disoriented and unsure of why she was awake.

Both questions were answered almost immediately. Grissom was sitting up in their hotel bed, coughing violently.

"Are you okay?" Sara asked, sitting up with him.

He nodded, and waved off her concern. Any verbal answer he would have given was cut off by another coughing spasm.

"No, you're not," Sara said. She climbed out of bed to get him a glass of water.

"Thanks," he said in a raspy voice, taking the water from her.

"Do you feel all right?"

"Yeah, I think," he said.

"You _think_?"

He rolled his eyes. "I just spent a good five minutes coughing. It's going to take me a moment to do a full health assessment."

Sara sighed. "We should stay in tomorrow … today … what time is it?"

"Four," he replied. "It's today."

"Okay. We'll stay in today."

"I hate to make you stay in when you have so much to do."

They had spent nearly a week running around town, accumulating all the things Sara would need for her new apartment. She was, through a stroke of luck, able to move in immediately, so they were able to take everything directly to the apartment. As of yet, they had not stayed the night – Sara didn't want to live there before she had everything she needed.

"I can take care of it when you're well," Sara said, touching her palm to his face. "Gil! You've got a fever!"

"I'm fine," he insisted.

Sara shook her head. "You feel warm."

"I've been under all these blankets with you all night. Of course I feel warm."

Sara sighed, realizing that she was not going to be able to convince him that he was sick. "Whatever. Will you try to sleep a little more?"

"Will you stay in bed with me?"

She grinned. "Yeah."

Grissom put his empty glass on the nightstand and lay back down on his back. Sara lay down with him, snuggling close.

"You'll tell me if you feel worse, right?"

"I promise."

"Good." She leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Sleep well."

"You, too, my dear."

* * *

Sara awoke before Grissom as the sun streaked into their room. He looked content enough; she did her best to get out of bed without waking him.

After taking a shower and dressing, Sara went to the hotel restaurant to get them breakfast. Asking the hostess to wrap it up to go, she took the food back to the room.

When she arrived, Grissom was sitting up in bed. She grinned at the sight of his wild hair, but the flush in his cheeks concerned her.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Okay," he replied. He indicated the bag in her hands. "What do you have?"

"Breakfast," she said triumphantly. She set the bag on the room's one table, and began pulling out her purchases one by one.

"We could have gone out for breakfast," Grissom protested.

"Are you saying you don't want to have breakfast in bed?" she asked.

Grissom smiled at that. "Well, when you put it _that_ way …"

Sara grinned and brought his coffee to him. "I thought so."

Grissom took the offered mug from her and carefully placed it on the nightstand. Before she had time to move away from him, he grabbed her arm and pulled her down onto the bed with him.

"Hey!" Sara laughed. "What are you doing?"

"I only want breakfast in bed if it's breakfast in bed with _you_." He rolled over so that she was pinned beneath him.

Sara laughed again. "Well, right now it's just me. Let me up so I can get the breakfast part of that equation."

Grissom smiled down at her. "I think it's fine the way it is."

He leaned down and kissed her, making her moan in the back of her throat.

"Griss," she gasped, breaking the kiss. "You're going to get me sick."

"I'm not sick." He kissed her again.

Sara's cell phone rang, interrupting Grissom's kisses. Sara pulled away from him.

"I need to get that."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

Grissom held her down, but, laughing, Sara stretched out to grab her phone from the nightstand. Grissom conceded defeat, and rolled off her.

"You and those long arms," he sighed.

"I haven't heard you complain about my limbs before," Sara said as she flipped her phone open. "Hello?"

"What in the world did I interrupt?" Mary asked.

"Classified," Sara said with a grin.

"Ugh, enough said," Mary said, struggling not to laugh. "So, I'm guessing I didn't wake you?"

"No, we're just about to have breakfast," Sara replied.

"Good. What are your after-breakfast plans?"

"We haven't made any yet," Sara said, watching as Grissom added cream to his coffee.

"How would you like to take Josie skating? It's too pretty to stay inside today, and Tom suggested it."

"Yeah, I think we could do that," Sara said, thinking that it would, if nothing else, be a short activity. Josie played out quickly.

"Great! We'll meet you at the rink at eleven, okay?"

"The same rink we went to before?"

"Yes."

"Okay. We'll see you then."

"See you," Mary echoed. "Bye, Sara."

"Bye."

Sara closed her phone and looked at Grissom.

"Mary?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sara said. She smiled. "How do you feel about ice skating?"

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "What happened to staying in for my health?"

"Fresh air is good for your health, too. And, last I recall, you were refusing to admit that you were sick."

Grissom smiled. "What time do we need to leave?"

"We have to meet them at eleven." Sara grinned. "This is going to be so much fun."

"If you say so," Grissom said uncertainly.

Sara laughed. "What now?"

"I'm … not a good skater."

Sara frowned in a bemused way. "Didn't you live in Minnesota?"

"Yes."

"Aren't they all about outdoor winter sports there?"

"Yes."

"And …?"

He sighed. "It was a long time ago, Sara. That was the last time I went skating … and, it wasn't exactly something I did every day."

She grinned. "I'll bet you took all the pretty girls skating."

He blushed. "I may have done that once or twice."

"It was romantic, wasn't it?" Sara teased, wrapping her arms around him. "Holding their hands so they wouldn't fall … cuddling up because you were cold … looking at all those stars …"

"Okay, fine, I'll take you skating," he conceded. "But, you'll be holding me up, not the other way around."

Sara laughed. "I'll take what I can get."

* * *

Grissom and Sara were just climbing out of their car in the ice skating rink's parking lot when Tom pulled to a stop next to them.

"Hi!" Mary said as she climbed out and opened the back door to help Josie out of her car seat. "Are you ready for this?"

"I'm excited," Sara said.

Grissom looked at Tom. "Should I be worried?"

"Nope," Tom said with a grin. He held up his camera. "I've already volunteered us to be the photographers for the trip. The ladies can skate with the baby."

"Works for me," Grissom said, his relief apparent.

Sara laughed, but made a face at Tom. "I was looking forward to getting Grissom out on the ice."

"Another time," Tom promised for him. He looked at Mary, who was setting Josie on her feet. "Are we ready to go?"

"Yes," Mary said, holding tightly to Josie's hand.

Once they had paid their admission and rented skates for Sara, Mary and Josie, Grissom and Tom went out to the rink. They selected a spot leaning against the rail to watch the ladies skate.

They only had to wait a moment before Sara and Mary appeared, each holding one of Josie's hands. She giggled as her feet touched the ice and she started to slip. Sara and Mary both tightened their grip, struggling to keep her on her feet.

"She's a natural," Sara said with a laugh.

Mary laughed with her. "She'll get better. We've got to keep her out here if we want her to have a shot at Olympic gold."

Sara raised her eyebrows. "She's expressed a desire to be an Olympic skater?"

"We all have dreams for our children, Sara."

Sara laughed again. "We'd better start teaching her to do triple axels if that's what you want for her."

"She can start smaller – like with staying on her feet without us holding her up."

Sara laughed again. "What do you think, Josie? Do you want to be in the Olympics?"

"Olympics!"

"I'll take that as a yes," Sara said, still laughing. "You'd better find her a coach as soon as we're done today."

Mary laughed with her. "I'm on it."

Grissom stood with Tom, watching the laughing Sara and Mary hold Josie's hands as they skated slowly around the rink. Tom lowered his camera to show Grissom his latest shot. Although Josie was the main subject, her face lit up with excitement, Grissom's attention was captured by Sara. She looked so incredibly happy.

"Thank you for doing this," Grissom said without preamble.

Tom frowned slightly. "For showing you a picture?"

"No," Grissom clarified. "For offering Sara a job."

Tom smiled. "No thanks are necessary. I didn't do it for anything other than a purely selfish motive. I want to have Sara working with me. She's a fantastic scientist."

Grissom nodded. "That she is."

"I should really thank you," Tom said.

"Why?"

"You're letting her stay here to work with me."

Grissom smiled. "I'm certainly not in any position to _let_ her do anything. I doubt anyone has been for quite some time."

"That's true," Tom said. "Our Sara doesn't let anyone tell her what to do."

They watched as Sara caught Josie just before she fell, and righted her on the ice. Tom smiled as he snapped a picture of the two of them.

"I'll say this, too: I'm also glad she's staying for Mary. Maybe even more than for my lab."

"They're close," Grissom agreed.

"Like sisters," Tom said, shaking his head. "I've never seen two friends as committed to each other as those two are. It's amazing."

Grissom smiled wistfully. "It's _Sara_."

Tom looked at him for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah," he said slowly. "I guess it is."

* * *

Sara's eyes opened as she felt Grissom's fingers playing with her hair. She smiled up at him.

"Hi," she said, her voice raspy with sleep.

"Hi," he replied.

"Shouldn't you still be asleep?"

He shook his head. "It's morning."

Sara looked at the weak sunshine trying to get past their shades. "So it is. How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

She raised an eyebrow.

"I'm _fine_, Sara."

She smiled. "Which means you feel like crap, but you won't admit it."

He rolled his eyes. "Why must you make everything a battle?"

She grinned and caught the hand that was playing with her hair, drawing it to her lips so she could kiss it. "Are you up to working today?"

"You have a crime we need to solve?"

She shook her head. "I have some furniture that needs to be arranged."

He smiled. "Okay."

* * *

After a stop at Target to pick up a few items that Sara was missing, they arrived at her apartment. Grissom looked at the boxes, then at Sara.

"Um … where do we start?"

"Well …" She smiled apologetically. "We have to put the furniture together."

Grissom sighed. "Of course. Ikea."

"Let's start … in the bedroom."

He smiled. "I like that idea."

"Down, boy. We have to put the bed together."

He shook his head. "Right. Ikea."

"Stop hating on my store!" Sara couldn't stop the laughter that followed her entreaty.

"Come on," Grissom said, taking her hand. "Let's go put that bed together … and pray we don't break it later."

* * *

An hour later, they were still struggling with the bed. Sara clutched her hair back from her face in frustration.

"You'd think that two scientists would be able to figure this out!"

"We're American scientists, love, not Swedish scientists. We can't read the instructions," Grissom said absently. "I think this goes … here."

He managed to put the last piece in place to get the headboard together. Sara nearly cried in relief.

"You did it!"

"Yeah … but, we still need to attach it to the bed."

Sara closed her eyes. "We're going to be here all day."

"Don't think of it that way," Grissom said. "Think of it as … putting the evidence together."

"Yeah," Sara said. "_This_ is the type of evidence I've been shoving off on Greg for several years now."

Grissom chuckled. "Look on the bright side. Once we get this done, we'll only have the nightstands, dresser and the rest of the house to go."

Sara threw the instructions at him. "Your absolute calm over this is truly unnerving. You know that, right?"

"I'm just basking the silence of _I told you so_," he said with a cheeky grin.

Sara's mouth dropped open. She closed it as her eyes narrowed. "It doesn't count as silence if you talk about it," she grumbled.

Grissom laughed again. "Enough whining. Back to work."

* * *

Grissom's smug, practiced coolness with the process made it through the bedroom, but cracked in the living room. While the entertainment center went together easily enough, the coffee table was another story entirely.

"This is ridiculous," he said, gritting his teeth in frustration. "We have tried every possible way to put this together, and it won't happen!" He shook the coffee table's legs angrily. "What is wrong with you?"

"Okay," Sara said, sitting back on her heels. "Let's take a break."

Grissom looked at her and blinked.

"We're getting nowhere but angry," she said. "Let's go … have dinner. Then, when we get back, we can put everything away in the kitchen. We can worry about the coffee table tomorrow."

"You're sure?" Grissom asked uncertainly, knowing that Sara was not one to give up on the task at hand.

"Yes," she said firmly. "You're yelling at the coffee table now, but it's only a matter of time before you're yelling at _me_ instead." She smiled and touched his cheek. "Neither of us wants that, right?"

He couldn't help but smile back at her. "Right."

"So … let's go have dinner."

He smiled again. "Okay."

* * *

After a quick dinner, they returned to the apartment. Grissom took off his coat and watched Sara turning on the lights. His eyes fell on the pieces of the coffee table, and he sighed, feeling all the strength and energy drain from his body.

"Honey …"

Sara turned to look at him. "Yeah?"

He shook his head. "I can't do this anymore. Not tonight."

Sara crossed to where he stood by the door, noticing for the first time how pale he looked. She ran her hand over his forehead. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Just … tired."

She hugged him, pillowing her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, baby. I've made you work way too hard, and you're not feeling well to begin with …"

He folded his arms around her and kissed her hair. "I want to help you."

"I know you do, and that's very sweet of you, but I'd rather you be healthy."

He smiled. "Do you know what would make me feel better?"

She pulled back to look at him. "Tylenol?"

He shook his head. "Breaking in your new bed."

Sara laughed. "You're trying to get me sick again!"

"Nope. Just trying to get you into bed while I still can."

Sara stopped laughing and looked down. "I don't want to talk about it."

Grissom tipped her chin up to look into her eyes. "We knew it was coming."

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "I just … I wish you didn't have to leave."

"You know I have to go back to work."

She nodded. "Not for two more days, though."

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "Is that a _no_ on breaking in the new bed?"

Sara giggled. "Yeah, right! I'll race you."

Laughing, they chased each other to the bedroom.


	37. Another Goodbye

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this one.

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Another Goodbye_

Sara watched as Grissom slipped his travel documents into his laptop bag, and sighed. He looked up at the sound to see her sitting on the couch, looking utterly forlorn. His features softening, he crossed to join her.

"I'm sorry," he said, sitting down next to her.

Sara shook her head, trying to blink back the tears. "Why should you be sorry?"

He ran his palm over her cheek, wiping an errant tear away with his thumb. "I'm making you cry," he nearly whispered.

She shook her head. The force of the motion sent more tears down her cheeks. "It's my own fault, isn't it? I could go back with you so easily …"

Grissom held his breath. _Oh, Sara … if only …_

"But, it's not that easy."

Grissom exhaled.

Sara wrapped her arms around his neck. "I need to be here right now. You understand that, don't you?"

"Of course, I do," he said automatically. "All I want is for you to be happy."

She nodded against him.

Grissom held her tightly. He had been very honest with her: All he wanted was for her to be happy. But, it was so impossibly hard to consider all that she needed for that to happen. She made him happy. Being with her made him happy. Why couldn't he do the same for her?

"Hey." Sara pulled back from his embrace to look at him. "Are you okay? You're squeezing the life out of me."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I guess I don't want to say goodbye, either."

Sara caressed his face and leaned in to kiss him. "I love you," she whispered against his lips. "I always will."

He nodded and kissed her again. "I love you, too."

Sara smiled and pulled back. "Come on. We've got to get going before you miss your flight."

* * *

Logan International Airport was, as always, a crowded, bustling scene of frazzled travelers. Sara waited with Grissom until he was checked in, then walked with him to security with her hand wrapped around his.

"Call me when you get to Vegas," she said as they stopped in front of the security gates.

"I will," he promised. He touched her cheek. "Take care of yourself."

"You, too," she said. She smiled slightly. "You're the one who's sick, not me."

"Still."

She nodded. "Love you."

"I love you, too," he said. He leaned down to kiss her. "I have to go."

Sara nodded. "I'll miss you."

He smiled and kissed her again. "I'll miss you," he repeated. "I'll talk to you soon."

Sara nodded. "I'll see you when I see you."

Grissom smiled and squeezed her hand. "Yeah. I'll see you when I see you."

He leaned in for one last kiss, then, with a final smile, he shouldered his bag and walked toward the security gates. Sara watched as he made his way through the lengthy process. She stood alone until he was gone from her sight. Then, wiping away fresh tears, she left the airport.

* * *

Grissom stepped into his shoes and picked up his bag, which suddenly felt like it was full of lead. He shook his head as he walked away from the check in area – away from Sara.

_This is how it's going to be from now on_, he reminded himself. _Get used to it_.

Struggling with another bout of coughing, he made his way to his gate. Maybe a stop at one of the airport shops for a bottle of water would be a good idea before he boarded the plane. It couldn't possibly make his cough any worse.

* * *

Sara was barely aware of her destination before she found herself in front of Mary's house. She didn't question her almost subconscious decision. Mary was exactly who she needed to see.

She climbed out of her car, and went to the front door. Almost as soon as she rang the bell, she could hear Josie's running footsteps coming to greet her.

"Sara!" Mary exclaimed as she swung the door open.

"Aunt Sara!" Josie squealed.

"Hi," Sara said as she walked through the open door. She swung Josie up into her arms, burying her face in her blond curls for a long moment.

"What's wrong?" Mary asked. Then, her face relaxed into understanding. "Grissom just left."

Sara nodded, and promptly began to cry again.

"Oh, sweetie," Mary sighed. "Come on. Let's sit down."

Sara nodded and followed Mary into the living room. She put Josie down as they sat down on the couch.

"Go play with your dolls, princess," Mary said to Josie.

"Okay." She ran off in search of her favorite toys.

Mary took Sara's hands. "When did he leave?"

"An hour or so ago."

Mary nodded. "You took him to the airport?"

Sara nodded and wiped at the new tears on her cheeks. "God, Mary, I'm sorry. I'm not usually like this when we say goodbye. I mean, we've done it enough over the years …"

Mary nodded silently.

"I guess … I guess it's harder this time, you know? Because, for the first time since I left Vegas, it feels _real_. Like we're really not living together."

"Why is that?"

"I have a real place here," Sara said slowly. "I have an apartment, not just a room in someone's house or a hotel. I have a job now …" She shivered slightly. "I'm making Boston my home."

"I can't pretend to be upset about that," Mary said. "But, I don't like to see you like this."

Sara shook her head. "I just need to get used to it," she said. "This is how it's going to be now. We're still together, just … long distance."

"You're sure you're okay with that, right?"

Sara nodded slowly. "What choice do I have? This is where we are now. His job is in Las Vegas, and mine is here. We're both doing what we've worked for, and we're maintaining our relationship as best we can."

"Okay, then," Mary said, squeezing her hands. "Stop crying and pull yourself together. This is your life now. You can't spend it sobbing for the life you've left behind. You've got to live it and make it work."

Sara nodded and extracted her hands from Mary's. She wiped away the last of her tears.

"You're right. I'm a big girl now, right?"

Mary smiled. "You certainly are."

* * *

Grissom was coughing yet again when he met Catherine in baggage claim at McCarran. She looked at him with concern.

"You don't sound good," she said in greeting.

"You sound like Sara," he replied.

Catherine shook her head. "I can't believe she let you get on a plane like this."

"What choice did we have?"

"You are allowed to change your tickets, you know."

He made a face. "I'm not paying that fee."

Catherine shook her head again, looking at him in disbelief.

"What?"

"You won't pay the fee, but you'll get everyone else on the plane sick?"

"I'm not sick."

Catherine rolled her eyes, effectively giving up. "Let's get your bag so I can take you home."

* * *

Catherine pulled to a stop in front of Grissom's house and turned off the car. She looked at him almost expectantly. He gave her a slight smile.

"Catherine, would you like to come in?" he asked.

She smiled. "Love to."

Grissom thought, as he climbed out of the car, that he should have known he wouldn't get off so easily. They had spent the drive talking about the events he had missed at work; Catherine had not even brought up Sara or his trip. He had been pleased, thinking that Catherine was being incredibly, if unusually, kind. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk about Sara, it was just … painful.

Now, it would appear, her kindness had run out.

They walked into the quiet house together. Grissom set down his bags while Catherine flipped on the lights.

"Do you want something to drink?" he offered.

"Sure," Catherine agreed.

Grissom smiled at her. "Screwdrivers?"

Her eyebrows shot up. "Okay … if you're having one, too."

Grissom nodded. "I need one."

Catherine followed him into the kitchen and watched as he pulled the glasses, vodka and orange juice from their respective homes and lined them up on the counter. She took over as each item landed on the counter, and poured their drinks.

"Okay," she said as they sat across from each other sipping their drinks, "tell me. How's Sara?"

"She's … fine."

Catherine raised an eyebrow. "Sara being 'fine' does not constitute alcohol. And, you've already told me that you had a smooth flight, so that hasn't rattled your nerves. Out with it. What happened in Boston?"

Grissom sighed. "Sara got a new job."

"In Boston?"

"In Boston."

Catherine exhaled. "In a crime lab?"

Grissom shook his head. "In a university lab. Her friend, Tom, helped her get it. She'll be working with him."

"That's the one her friend Mary is married to, right? The one we met?"

Grissom nodded.

"Well," Catherine said, shaking her head slightly. "That's … surprising. Is she living with them?"

"She was. But, while I was there, we found her an apartment and got her all settled."

"So … you helped with this process?"

"Yes."

Catherine shook her head again. "When Sara first left, you told me that all you wanted was for her to be happy. I guess I didn't realize how much you meant that until now."

"That is what I want," Grissom said. "But …"

Catherine nodded. "It's not happening the way you want it."

"Certainly not the way I'd prefer."

Catherine nodded again and chinked her glass against his. "Well, bottoms up, then. Might as well come to terms with it by drinking a screwdriver with a friend."

Grissom smiled and took a drink with her. Catherine watched him, waiting in silence. She knew he wanted to say more, but she also knew that she had to wait for him to say it on his own terms.

"It seems real now," he finally said.

"What do you mean?"

"Sara being gone."

Catherine frowned slightly.

"Before, I could always think that she would be back someday. But, now …" He exhaled. "She has a job in Boston. A home. In a way, she's having a new adventure."

Catherine paused, choosing her words carefully. "Do you want to take it with her?"

"I belong here," he said simply.

"How did you … leave things?"

He shrugged slightly. "We're … long distance, I suppose." A faint smile crossed his face. "In a way, it's how we started out – living in separate cities, emailing, talking on the phone, trying to see each other at conferences …"

"Gil," Catherine said, a slightly annoyed smile crossing her face, "I don't believe for a minute that it's the same now as it was when Sara lived in San Francisco."

"No," he acknowledged with a sigh. "I suppose it's not. But, it gives me a frame of reference to think of it that way." He shook his head. "I don't know what I'm doing here, Cath. This is totally new for me."

She smiled at him. "I think every moment that you've known Sara has been totally new for you. And, the mistake you made for way too many years was trying to fit your relationship with her into a neat, little box. Whether it was a box created by society, by the lab or by your own experience, it was wrong, wasn't it?"

He nodded slowly, frowning as he tried to get her point. Catherine's smile widened at the look on his face.

"You and Sara are best together when you're making up your own rules," she said. "When you're defying what everyone else thinks you should do, it's … what you two do. It's what works for you." She smiled. "It's what makes you – _both_ of you – happy."

Grissom gave a half-smile, thinking of the miserable time he had spent agonizing about all the reasons they shouldn't get together, and then all the blissful time he had spent breaking the rules to be with Sara. Catherine was absolutely right.

"You're right," he said simply.

She smiled. "I know I am."

* * *

Sara's cell phone started to ring as she walked into her apartment. She fished it out of her purse, then threw the bag on the couch. She smiled at Grissom's name on the display.

"Hi," she said.

"Hello," he replied, clearly smiling.

"You're back in Vegas?" she asked.

"Yes. Catherine even got me safely back to the house."

"Good." Sara sat down next to her purse.

"She stayed to talk for a little bit."

"Not surprising," Sara said. "You had a lot to catch up on at the lab."

"Yeah," Grissom said. "She also wanted to know how you're doing. She says hello, by the way."

Sara smiled. "I'll have to call her. I miss talking to her."

"She'll like that."

"So … did you tell her about my new job?"

"Yes." He paused. "She … made me realize something."

"What's that?"

"We don't do well with following the rules."

"What?" Sara asked. "Who doesn't?"

"You and I don't."

Sara laughed. "Griss. We're very law-abiding citizens. We catch the bad guys, remember?"

"Not the big, legal rules," Grissom said with a smile. "I mean … Sara, what we have … it's against the rules. I'm so much older than you – that's against society's rules. I was your supervisor – that's against the lab's rules. And, now, we're not in the same city, but we're still together, right?"

"Right," Sara said, beginning to see where he was going.

"Playing by the rules is not something we've ever done," Grissom continued. "So, Catherine made me see … if it works for us, we just need to do it."

"So, now you're suddenly behind our long distance relationship because Catherine said it was a good idea?" Sara asked.

"Well, since we first got together, I've been for whatever it takes to be with you," Grissom said. "I guess she just made me see that this long distance relationship is more 'us' than 'not us.'"

Sara giggled at that. "Mary told me I need to stop crying over the life I've left behind and start living the life I have."

Grissom smiled. "Similar ideas, in a strange way."

"Yeah."

"Did it make you feel better? What Mary said?"

Sara nodded, exhaling slowly. "Yeah," she said. "It did."

"Good," Grissom said. "I say we take this non-traditional thing and run with it for as long as we can."

Sara smiled. "I'm in."

"Good." Grissom smiled. "I love you, Sara."

"I love you, too."


	38. Healing

A/N: Thanks for your patience waiting for me to update this story. Real life, among other things, has gotten in the way. I'm hoping to update more regularly for the foreseeable future.

I hope you like where this is going, and that it was worth the wait!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episode 812, "Grissom's Divine Comedy" and its deleted scene.

* * *

Sara's cell phone started ringing as she walked into her apartment. She fished it out of her bag just in time to answer it; she didn't even have time to look at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Hi," Grissom said, amid a coughing fit.

"You sound terrible," Sara said.

Grissom chuckled. "Thanks, Sara. That really makes me feel good."

"I'm serious!" Sara exclaimed. "You didn't sound this bad when you left here. I thought that dry desert air was supposed to be good for the respiratory system."

"Don't blame this on Vegas. I must need you to take care of me."

She rolled her eyes. "No, you need some time to recover. Did you call in sick?"

"No." He sounded shocked at the idea. "I need to go to work, Sara."

"You _need_ to get better."

"I'll be fine." Grissom coughed again. "I didn't call for your medical opinion, anyway. I'm the doctor of this relationship."

Sara laughed. "You're not a _real_ doctor, Grissom. But, why did you call? Just to hear my voice?"

"Of course," he said. "And, to ask about your first day of work."

Sara grinned, settling herself comfortably on her IKEA couch. "It was … different. Really, really different."

"Good different or bad different?"

"Different, different," she said. "It's … not like a crime lab. The pace is much slower. Everyone there … _gets_ it, you know? There's no one pushing for answers. No one rushing you. It's … serene, I suppose."

Grissom nodded, remembering the long-ago days of working in the lab in UCLA as a grad assistant. "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah," Sara said. She smiled. "I think I'm going to like it."

"Good," Grissom said. "As long as you're happy, I'm happy."

Sara sighed. "I won't be happy until you're better, Gil. Seriously, you need to take some time off and rest."

"I'll be fine," he said.

"You'll take care of yourself?"

"I will. I promise."

* * *

"You look like hell."

"Nice to see you, too, Catherine."

She sat down across from Grissom in his office. "Seriously, you look worse than you did when I picked you up at the airport two days ago. Are you feeling all right?"

"I was until you told me I look like hell."

She smiled slightly. "I'm worried about you."

He rolled his eyes. "Join the club."

"Maybe I will. What sort of hazing will I have to go through?"

He smiled. "I talked to Sara a couple hours ago. She's convinced I'm on death's door."

"Just from a phone call? That should tell you something. She says you sound terrible, and I'm telling you that you look terrible. Between the two of us and our observations, I'd say you need medical attention."

"I'm _fine_, Cath."

She narrowed her eyes. "Did that work on Sara?"

He coughed. "I promised her I'd take care of myself."

"Hm." Catherine shook her head. "Is there any way I can convince you to take the night off?"

"No."

"Fine." She stood up. "I'll see you in the break room for assignments."

Grissom sighed as he watched her go. He wondered what was worse: Working sick, or dealing with the two very stubborn women who appeared to be convinced he was dying.

* * *

"We've got to do something."

Catherine looked up as Brass walked into her office, closing the door behind him. "What are you talking about?"

"Grissom," he said. "He's been back for two weeks, and worked enough hours to have been back for three. He's sick, he's getting worse …"

"And, now he's infecting the rest of us," Catherine added. "Nick came in sick yesterday and looks even worse today, and Greg's been walking around in a sweater all night. I asked if he's okay, and he wouldn't answer."

Brass shook his head. "Grissom is going to kill his entire team. You know, he doesn't see stuff like this on his own."

Catherine nodded. "Time for an intervention."

* * *

Grissom turned his head to cough into his arm. He didn't want to chance contaminated the evidence, and he hated the idea of changing his gloves yet again. Despite what Sara said about the desert air being good for the respiratory system, he showed no signs of getting over whatever it was he had picked up in Boston. If anything, he felt worse. Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, he squinted into the microscope again.

"We need to talk."

He looked up as Catherine and Brass came into the lab. Sniffling, he raised his eyebrows.

"How can I help you?"

"Grissom, this has gone on long enough," Brass said, sitting down across from him. "We're sending you home."

He frowned.

"Gil, you're sick," Catherine said, taking the seat next to Brass. "You've been ignoring it for two weeks. We don't have a problem with that because we know how you are."

"The word 'workaholic' comes to mind," Brass said.

"But, at this point, it's getting ridiculous," Catherine said.

"You're getting sicker by the day," Brass said. "You look like hell."

"And, you're getting the rest of us sick," Catherine said. "Nick and Greg both are walking around looking miserable – _and_, they're coughing just like you are."

Grissom sat back and sighed. "Are you two through?"

"Are you willing to go home?" Catherine asked.

He sighed again. They were right. He truly did feel horrible. Just sitting at the microscope was torture. And, Nick and Greg _did_ look terrible. "Yes," he agreed.

Brass and Catherine looked at each other in surprise.

"That was … easy," Catherine said.

"We should have done it days ago," Brass said. "Maybe Nick and Greg wouldn't be sick."

"You do realize that I can still hear you, right?" Grissom asked, rolling his eyes.

"Well, I guess the infection hasn't moved into your ears," Catherine said, standing up. "Go to the doctor, Gil. Get something to make you better."

"And, take your time getting better," Brass said. "The bad guys will still be here when you come back."

Grissom smiled and promptly started coughing. Catherine and Brass exchanged a look.

"I guess we can call this a success story," Catherine said.

Brass smiled. "He's not out of the building yet."

"Again," Grissom said, annoyance creeping into his voice, "I can still hear you."

* * *

"So? How's it going?"

Sara took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Good," she said, smiling.

Mary grinned at her from across the table. "Good," she repeated. "I'm glad."

Sara smiled again. "I am, too."

"And, _this_ is a lot of fun," Mary said. "I didn't even realize how much I missed having lunch on campus with you."

Sara laughed. "It's just like being undergrads again, right?"

"Sara, please. We're in a _much_ nicer place than we would have been as undergrads. This is just like being grad students."

Sara laughed again. "If you say so."

"Seriously, I love that we can just meet for lunch," Mary said. She smiled. "It's great having you here."

Sara smiled. "I've missed you, too, Mar." She took a sip of her drink. "What are you doing this afternoon?"

"Depends. What time?"

"I get off at four."

"My class ends at 4:30."

Sara nods. "I can wait until then."

"Are you going to tell me what we're doing?"

She grinned. "I want to get a haircut. And, I want you to come along."

* * *

"Brass."

"We've got a problem."

Brass sighed at Ecklie's words. "I know. I'm already at the scene. This man was the star witness in a grand jury –"

"No, listen, Jim. I just got off the phone with Madeline Klein. She wants Grissom to take the case."

"Grissom?" Brass repeated. "Look, Conrad, I can understand why she wants him, but he's home sick."

"Yeah, I told her that. She doesn't seem to care."

"Did you explain to her that he hasn't taken a sick day in twenty years? That he got half his team sick before Catherine and I forced him to take some time off? That, according to what he told Catherine after his doctor's appointment, he has _walking_ _pneumonia_?"

"Yes, I did explain all of that. Her cell phone cut out before I could get anything else out of her." Ecklie sighed. "Catherine has the case now, right?"

"Yeah. She just got here with Warrick, Nick and Greg."

"They'll be fine. Maddie will have to deal with it."

Brass chuckled. "As long as _you're_ the one telling her that, it works for me."

"Yeah," Ecklie said. "I …" He trailed off, then sighed. "She's calling me now. Keep me posted, Jim."

"Yeah, you, too."

With a grim, mirthless chuckle, Ecklie ended the call. Brass pocketed his phone and went in search of Catherine.

"What's up?" she asked, surprised by the grim look on his face. Even Brass didn't usually look so dire at a crime scene.

"Maddie Klein is taking this case."

"Good," Catherine said. "She's the one taking on the gangs; if this is a gang crime, I want her to have it."

"She wants Grissom to have this case."

Catherine's eyebrows shot up. "Tell her that he's sick."

"Ecklie is trying."

Catherine shook her head. "Maddie doesn't usually take _no_ for an answer."

"She isn't this time, either."

"Well, we'll try to keep Grissom updated from home. He can still call in theories, opinions and instructions if it makes Maddie happy."

"Okay, then," Brass said. "Glad we've got a plan. I'm going to go see what Robbins has for us."

"Jim?"

He stopped and turned to face Catherine again. "Yeah?"

"That will be enough to keep Maddie happy, right?"

Brass chuckled. "Catherine, _nothing_ keeps Maddie happy."

* * *

Maybe it really was that he was – and had been for several weeks – sick. Maybe it was that the doctor's diagnosis of walking pneumonia had given him the license to feel as sick as he was.

No matter the reason, Grissom felt utterly miserable. Wearing his warmest pajamas and wrapped in a flannel robe, he shuffled around his kitchen, making chicken soup. His mother had always sworn by it; he sincerely hoped it would make him feel better.

Hank seemed to know he was sick. He followed his master around the house as if to keep an eye on him, settling in front of the stove while Grissom stirred his soup. Grissom glanced down at him and smiled slightly.

He paused in his stirring to test the soup. His mother would have a fit to see him using the same spoon to stir the soup and taste it, but he was the only one eating it so he didn't think the germs would matter. The soup needed something …

His cell phone rang, interrupting the process. He glanced down at and closed his eyes. _Ecklie_.

Putting down his spoon, he picked up the phone. "Grissom," he said.

"Hi, Gil," Ecklie said. "Feeling any better?"

"No," Grissom replied honestly.

Ecklie sighed. "Look, we've got a situation. I've got a dead witness in a grand jury trial to indict La Tierra."

"Catherine can take it," Grissom said, moving the phone so he wouldn't cough in Ecklie's ear.

Ecklie sighed again. Grissom's quick refusal to take the case spoke volumes about how he was feeling. "Catherine is on it now," he said. "She has your entire team at the scene."

"Great," Grissom said. "Thanks for keeping me updated."

"No, Gil, wait," Ecklie said. "This grand jury case – it's Madeline Klein's."

"Great," Grissom said again. "She and Catherine get along fine."

"Gil," Ecklie said, gritting his teeth at the news he had to deliver, "Maddie wants you. In fact, she's _insisting_ upon having you take this case."

"I'm home sick," Grissom replied. "I'd like it to stay that way."

"I'd like it to stay that way, too," Ecklie said. "Look, can you … phone in a supervisory role? I really don't think Maddie is going to back down on this."

"No, she probably won't," Grissom reluctantly agreed. "Maddie doesn't back down on anything."

"Exactly."

Grissom sighed, but it made his chest hurt. "Okay," he said, massaging his chest. "I'll call Catherine and have her bring me up to speed."

"Thanks, Gil. I owe you one."

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. "You owe me an extra sick day."

Ecklie smiled. "Done."

* * *

Grissom had not had to work a case without actually going to the scene in years. It was, in a word, difficult. Catherine was fantastic about keeping him in the loop, and Maddie promised to drop by with case information, but it was not even remotely close to the same as being at the scene and in the lab.

A knock on his door signaled Maddie's arrival. Pulling himself off the couch, he went to admit her into his house. He was still wearing his robe, and made it a point to look as miserable as possible. Although he knew it would never work, a part of him still hoped that she would decide to let him hand the case off to Catherine.

"Gah, you look like hell," she said as soon as he opened the door. She pushed past him carrying a box of evidence. "I need sugar. Do you have a soda?"

Grissom shook his head slightly. She would never change. "Nice to see you, too, Maddie."

"Six months' worth of investigation," she said, putting her box down in his living room. "Two months working with the grand jury, five low-level indictments against the LATs. Why you? Because you're the only one who won't screw it up."

"My team won't screw it up," Grissom called up from the kitchen.

"Oh, right," Maddie said, putting down her purse. "Your team. Warrick Brown got mixed up with a crooked judge. Sanders ran down a civilian while on duty. Ms. Willows lied about being at a crime scene – among other things. You've got Stokes, your straight arrow – suspected of killing his hooker girlfriend." She took a file from her box as Grissom came back up with her soda. "How's the song go? You call me up, I get them out of it? If it weren't for me, you'd have no team."

"Are you done?" Grissom asked, opening the can for her.

"All right. Do you have a …?" She held up a DVD. Grissom took it from her to put in his player.

By the time they had finished watching the interrogation film, Grissom knew he had no choice but to participate more actively in the case. And, he knew that he needed to talk to the grand jurors. They needed to know what had happened, and they needed to hear it from someone other than Maddie.

"I'll meet you at the courthouse in five hours," he promised as he walked Maddie to the door.

"Thanks, Gil," she said. "I appreciate this."

He smiled. "You've given me no choice."

"What? Just because you owe me?" She grinned. "See you there."

* * *

Before he could go to the courthouse, Grissom wanted to be caught up on the more current aspects of the case – specifically, how the star witness in Maddie's grand jury investigation had died. Catherine had promised to bring over the evidence and case file – and, Grissom thought, looking at his watch, she was cutting it close.

Not that he minded. Sitting on his couch in his robe was preferable to getting off it to get dressed. He truly regretted telling Maddie he could appear so quickly. He knew that she was in a time crunch, but he felt so miserable …

He was working up the energy to get off his couch and get dressed when a knock sounded on his door. Hank ran to greet their guest with booming barks. Grissom looked at the clock over the television.

"Catherine, you just made it," he murmured.

The effort of walking to the door had him coughing again. He opened it to see Catherine carrying a large box.

"God, you sound _horrible_," she greeted him.

"Hi, Catherine," he said, stepping back so she could come into the house.

"Hey, Hank!" she said as the dog rushed to greet her. "Hi, buddy!"

"Thanks for coming," Grissom said, already headed downstairs with Hank at his heels. If she had gotten him off the couch, he might as well capitalize on the movement. "I've got to be in court in thirty minutes."

"Oh, okay," Catherine said, following Grissom and the dog into the house. "Is that … chicken soup I'm smelling?" She tried desperately not to laugh. Somehow, the idea of Grissom making himself chicken soup struck her as funny.

"My mother's recipe," he said.

"Really? Cute."

"I've got to get dressed," he said as he disappeared down a hallway. "Fill me in, will you?"

Grissom went into his bedroom and pulled his blue suit – the one Sara always loved – out of his closet. Catherine's voice followed him as she described what they had discovered about their victim. From the sound of it, she was moving around the house as she talked. Grissom grinned. He knew she wouldn't miss a chance to snoop. It was half training – he always found it difficult not to look through people's things when visiting their houses – and half _Catherine_.

By the time he made it back to the front of the house, Catherine was in the kitchen. She was standing in front of the refrigerator, holding a picture. Grissom didn't need to get any closer to know which one it was. It had to be the picture of him and Sara in San Francisco. Taken during the first year they had known each other, they both looked so _young_ in it – and, he had to admit – so _happy_ to be together. There was nothing else on his fridge that would draw Catherine's attention like that picture would.

"Listen, Catherine, when you're done with your investigation, could you take Hank out for a pee?" he asked. "I've got to get to court."

He hurried up the stairs. Aside from wanting to escape from the questions that were undoubtedly about to explode from Catherine, he really was running late.

"How long have you and Sara been together?" Catherine asked, holding up the picture.

Grissom held her eyes for a moment, a slight look of confusion coming over his face. He and Sara had been having problems with that very question for a while.

"I gotta go," he said, turning away from her. "Thanks."

"And, to think," she said, stopping him at the door, "all these years, I thought you were this lonely workaholic."

He smiled at her, gave her a chuckle, then disappeared out the door. He exhaled, and immediately started coughing again.

He really needed to talk to Sara about how much their friends should know about them.

* * *

"So," Mary said as she and Sara sat in the waiting area of the salon where Mary had been getting her hair cut since moving to Boston, "why am I here?"

"To make sure I don't lose my nerve."

Mary frowned. "What do you mean?"

Sara exhaled. "I've been through so much," she said. "Too much. And, now, I feel like I'm starting something new. So … I want to cut my hair. _Really_ cut it."

"How short are we talking?"

"Maybe … chin length?" Sara said, holding up her hands to her face to cut off her hair.

"That's like … inches, Sar," Mary said, her eyes betraying her nervousness. "Are you sure?"

Sara nodded. "I'm sure."

"Sara?"

Both women looked up at the trendy stylist who was smiling at them.

"That's me," Sara said, standing up.

The woman smiled. "I'm Kate," she said.

Sara grinned. "Perfect."

Who better than a woman with a variation of Catherine's name to help her enter this new phase of her life?

"Can my friend come back, too?"

"Sure," Kate said easily. "The station next to mine is empty right now, so you can sit and chat while I work."

"Great."

They went back to Kate's station, and Sara sat down in the chair. Kate immediately began playing with Sara's hair.

"So," she said, "what are we going to do today?"

"I want to make it shorter," Sara said.

"Shorter," she replied. "How much?"

"Chin length?"

"You've got it. How about color?"

Sara watched as strands of her hair fell through Kate's fingers. The highlights were mostly natural – a reminder of her life in Las Vegas.

"I want to go to my natural color," she said. "Deep, deep brown."

"And the highlights?"

Sara shook her head. "I want them gone."

Kate frowned slightly as she concentrated. "Okay," she said at last. "I'm going to use a couple different shades of brown, just to give you some depth, okay?"

"Sure," Sara said. "As long as the blond is gone."

"You've got it. I'm going to go mix up some color, and I'll be right back."

Mary looked at Sara with a somewhat bemused smile as Kate walked away.

"What?" Sara asked.

"This is so weird – it's like a break up reaction without the break up."

Sara looked at her reflection in the mirror. "It _is_ a break up – I'm finally breaking up with my past."

* * *

Getting out of the house to go to the courthouse made a dramatic difference in Grissom's outlook. He still felt terrible, but realized that he could push through it. Not like he normally would – he knew he wasn't up to working a double – but enough to get through at least some aspects of the case.

For his first order of business, he and Warrick were going to search the home of Alvarado, a leader of the LATs. He knew that Warrick could just as easily handle this on his own, or with Catherine, Nick or Greg to back him up, but he also knew that Maddie would not be able to handle it if Grissom wasn't there. Not eager to endure another tongue-lashing about the presumed ineptitude of his team, Grissom agreed to meet Warrick at the scene.

Warrick had brought Grissom's kit along with him, saving Grissom the trip back to CSI to retrieve it. He had even restocked it for him. Grissom thanked him, grateful that Warrick had taken the time to check on his supplies.

"Hey, Grissom, I've got tickets to the Rebels tomorrow night," Warrick said as he began to climb the exterior staircase to Alvarado's apartment ahead of Grissom. "If you're feeling any better, you want to check it out?"

"I'll be in bed," Grissom said, giving him a slight smile.

They had only climbed a few more steps when it happened. Alvarado's apartment exploded, sending fire, glass and debris shooting out at the stairs Warrick and Grissom were ascending. Grissom was able to duck back under an overhang, but Warrick, a few steps ahead of him, was propelled over the railing. He landed on all fours, protected from the worst of the onslaught.

As soon as he could step forward, Grissom looked down at his younger colleague, fear etched in his features. Warrick was staring up at the flames shooting from the apartment window in disbelief.

"Are you all right?" Grissom asked, mindless of the uniforms around them who were already frantically attempting to secure the scene.

"Yeah," Warrick said. "You?"

"Fine."

Warrick grinned. "That should clear out your head for you, huh?"

Grissom shook his head and smiled slightly. "Yeah."

Warrick stood up gingerly. "Alvarado is one crazy-connected gang leader, but still … How could he blow up his place from inside a prison cell?"

"That," Grissom said, "is what we're going to find out."

* * *

"Okay," Kate said, putting a finishing coat of shine spray on Sara's hair. She turned her chair to face the mirror. "What do you think?"

Sara's jaw dropped as she looked at her reflection. "Oh … my …"

"Do you like it?" Kate asked.

Sara's hands went to her hair, playing with the short layers that had a nice curl to them. "I've never seen it curl so easily before."

"Yeah, when I took off the length, it made it easier for the natural curl to bounce up."

Sara nodded, swallowing. It was shorter than she had imagined, that was for sure. But …

"I like it," she said with a grin. "It's so … different. I've never had it cut like this before."

Kate grinned. "I'm glad you like it." She began to play with it. "You can just let it dry, and it'll look an awful lot like this. Of course, this is more precise, because I used a diffuser on it – you can do that, too."

Sara nodded. "Thank you," she said, already imagining how it would look if she straightened it. "This is great."

"You're welcome."

After Sara had paid for her cut and color and left Kate a nice tip, she and Mary walked out to the parking lot together. Mary reached over to play with Sara's newly-cut hair.

"Did you realize it would be this short?" she asked.

"No," Sara said. "Not at all."

"But … do you really like it, or were you just being nice?"

Sara smiled. "I really like it."

"Good," Mary said, smiling with her. "I do, too."

* * *

Finally, finally, finally, the case was solved. The star witness' death was a tragic accident brought about by a nervous father-in-law, and Alvarado had been passing information to the outside world through messages written in books in urine.

Grissom wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep, but Maddie had to be informed of the case's ending. He sat with in her in an empty courtroom, going over every last detail.

"I guess now I owe you one," she said at last.

Grissom smiled. "I don't keep score, Madeline."

"You know what, Gilbert? You're the only man I know who's never let me down. Which means, you're either a classic enabler, or my soul mate." She gave him a smile, then looked down.

Grissom smiled slightly back at her. "After what you said about my team, enabler sounds about right."

"You've got a good team, Gil," she said, finally looking up again. "We both know it."

He nodded.

"And, you've got a soul mate," she said, her voice so soft that he could barely hear her. "We both know that, too."

Grissom smiled. "Yes," he agreed. "I do."

* * *

Walking the dog was usually one of Grissom's favorite chores. However, after everything he had been through, he truly just wanted to sleep. But, Hank would not understand his master's needs, nor would he put them above his own. So, Grissom took him on his walk, and was utterly exhausted by the time he got home.

Hank ran down the steps to the kitchen as soon as they got into the house, but Grissom only made it as far as the couch. He sank down and let his head drop into his hand, his intention being to regain enough strength to make it all the way to the bedroom.

He had only been sitting for a few moments when his phone rang. _Not again_! Praying that Ecklie wasn't calling him to another scene, he picked up the phone that he had purposely not taken on his walk with Hank.

As he read the name on the display, a weight seemed to lift off his shoulders. He reclined on the couch, smiling as he pulled the phone to his ear.

"Hi," he said.

"You sound _so_ much better," Sara said, relief evident in her voice. "In fact, so much better that I think you should come back to Boston – I just got a new bookcase from IKEA that I need help getting together."

Grissom chuckled. "I think I just got worse again."

"Funny," Sara said. "Did you get some time off? I feel like I haven't talked to you in a week."

"It's been about that," Grissom said. "I did get a couple days before I got called in on a case."

Sara rolled her eyes even though Grissom couldn't see it. "No wonder you think they can't survive without you."

"Madeline Klein wanted me."

"She's _always_ wanted you," Sara said, a hint of dislike for Maddie edging into her voice. Although not a jealous person by nature, Sara had never appreciated the way Maddie acted around Grissom.

"Sara."

"Gilbert," she mimicked his tone. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah," he sighed.

She pushed Maddie out of her thoughts and the conversation. "So, how was the case?"

"Oh, you know … frame up, gang involvement, Warrick and I were nearly blown up … the usual."

"Blown up?" Sara exclaimed. "What do you mean, blown up? Are you all right? Is Warrick?"

"We're both fine," Grissom said. "We were going to search a suspect's apartment … he had other ideas for it."

"Talk about redecorating," Sara said, shaking her head.

"Pretty much." Grissom cleared his throat, eager to change topics. "Have you talked to Catherine recently?"

"No. Why? What's going on with her?"

"She's throwing a birthday party for Greg in two weeks."

"That should be fun."

"Yeah." Grissom cleared his throat again. "How would you like to come to the party with me?"

"What?" Sara gasped.

"I'll buy your plane ticket," he said. "I know Greg would love to see you at his birthday party."

"Gil!" Sara suddenly laughed. "This wouldn't be a very sneaky way of getting out of buying him a present, would it?"

Grissom's smile came through in his words. "It may have something to do with that …"

Sara laughed. "Sure. I'll be Greg's birthday present. Will you put a bow on me, too?"

"No, dear. The only one who gets to unwrap you is me."


	39. Pressure

A/N: I am so, so sorry about how long it's been since this story was updated! I think it got pushed to the backburner when I got all excited about my new stories. But, I'm getting really excited about what's coming up for this one – and, simultaneously dreading it. So, we'll see where that puts me with updates to it.

I hope you enjoy this very, very delayed chapter. Again, I'm sorry about that. Thanks for sticking with me on this one!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episode 813, "A Thousand Days on Earth." Additional inspiration is taken from episode 702, "Built to Kill."

* * *

_Pressure_

"Plenty of looky-loos, I see."

Grissom glanced at Catherine as they made their way to their new crime scene. "I'll never understand how we can accumulate such crowds so late at night."

"It's the city that never sleeps, Gil."

"I thought that was New York."

Catherine smiled tolerantly. "I believe the rule applies here, too."

Grissom gave her a slight smile and winked at her.

Brass saw them approaching and ducked under the crime scene tape to meet them. "Hey," he said.

"What have we got?" Grissom asked.

Brass looked at both of them sadly. As much as he knew they were the best possible team to investigate any murder, he knew that this one would hit them harder than it would have any of the other CSIs on their shift. He sighed.

"What is it, Jim?" Catherine asked.

"Our vic is a toddler," he said.

Catherine's face fell. "Oh, no."

"Guy who found her is a stand-up comedian," Brass said. "He was on his way home after his set when he saw the box in his back up camera in his car."

"What else do we know?" Grissom asked.

"Not much," Brass said. "I need to go talk to some of these concerned citizens – see if any of them saw anything."

Grissom looked at Catherine. "Shall we have a look?"

She nodded, her face set with grim lines. "Let's go."

They ducked under the crime scene tape; the uniform and detective who were already standing by the box containing their tiny victim looked up at them.

"Tough one," the uniform commented. "She was a pretty little girl."

They looked down at the child, and Catherine felt all the breath leave her body. The little girl, as the officer had said, was very pretty. Her blond hair and angelic face made Catherine think of her Lindsey as a preschooler.

Grissom felt an intense sorrow as he looked at the little girl. What had she done to deserve such an ending to her tragically short life? And, who would leave her in an open place, but so tenderly wrapped in blankets? Their tiny victim was a study in contradictions. Determination to find justice for her filled him.

"I'll put up some screens," he said, hoping to keep as much attention away from the child as possible.

"Don't bother," Catherine said. "I'm going to take it back intact."

Grissom nodded slightly and raised his camera to begin taking photos of the body. _That's all she is, _he reminded himself_. Just another body. Just another victim. _

"Hey," David said as he approached. "I didn't expect you two to beat me."

"Catherine drove," Grissom replied.

David smiled. "Well, that explains it." He looked down at the little girl's body, and his face fell. "Oh."

Grissom nodded. "Catherine wants to take everything back to the lab as is, so …"

He nodded. "I won't disturb her any more than I need to."

"Thanks, David," Catherine said quietly.

David gave her a sympathetic look, then began the difficult task of performing his job.

* * *

"Hey, Sara!"

Sara looked up from the data she was analyzing as Alex, the lab's grad assistant, bounced into her workspace. "Hi," she said.

"Happy hour on Friday!" Alex declared. "Are you in?"

"This Friday?"

"Yes."

"Ah, Alex, I'm sorry, but I can't. I'm leaving on Thursday."

"You're leaving?" Alex asked, his face falling. "Where are you going?"

"Not forever, doofus," Tom said, rolling his eyes. "She's going to visit her fiancé in Vegas."

"How could you not know that?" Claire, another of their coworkers, asked. "She's been talking about it for over a week."

"Some of us have a dissertation to work on," Alex said. "We don't have time for lab gossip."

"Right, you don't do lab gossip," Claire said, winking at Sara. "That's why you're always the first one to agree to happy hour Fridays."

"It is very important to balance work with a social life," Alex said almost stiffly.

"Socializing with your coworkers?" Claire teased. "How does that balance things?"

"Hey, now," Sara said with a grin. "If it weren't for socializing with coworkers, I wouldn't be going to Vegas this weekend." She looked at Alex with twinkling eyes. "So, Alex, who is it you've got your eye on? Claire? Or someone else?"

"Oo, it must be me," Claire said. "Sara's already taken."

"You two are ridiculous," Alex said, turning to leave them.

Claire laughed, but Sara felt mildly guilty for teasing him so much. Alex reminded her very strongly of Greg; it was difficult to remember that her relationship with him was vastly different from her relationship with Greg.

"Oh, calm down," Tom said, finally taking pity on his student. "Girls, leave Alex alone. I don't want him running out of the building tonight and never coming back."

"Spoil sport," Claire said. She sighed. "We're sorry, Alex. We didn't mean to be cruel."

"You really remind me a lot of one of my coworkers from Vegas," Sara said honestly. "He's one of my best friends, and sometimes … I forget that you and I don't know each other as well as he and I do."

Alex's eyes lit up in triumph. "A coworker who's a best friend, hm? Sounds like socializing with coworkers."

"Hey, I'll admit to it," Sara said, laughing. "I wasn't the one who said it was a bad idea. That was Claire."

"Look, it's not that I don't love you guys," Claire said. "I love going out for happy hour with you. It's just that I don't think socializing with your coworkers gives your life balance. You've got to have something beyond that."

Suddenly transported back to Grissom's office nearly a decade before, Sara shook her head. "I'm not saying you're wrong," she said. "But, I think there is something to be said for being close to your coworkers, too."

Tom laughed. "Has Sara mentioned that the love of her life was a coworker before she moved here?"

Claire and Alex stared at her. Sara glared at Tom.

"Thanks for putting me out there."

"Oh, please," Tom said with a grin. "You've been dancing around it since this conversation started. It's time they know."

"Knew what?" Leo, the final member of their team asked as he walked into the lab.

"Not important," Sara said.

"Did you have to leave because of it?" Claire asked.

"No," Sara sighed.

"So, that was allowed where you worked before?" Alex asked.

"No," Sara said again.

"But, then … how …?" Claire and Alex stared at her, both looking as though their heads would explode at any given moment.

"What are you talking about?" Leo exclaimed. "Can someone please tell me?"

"No," Tom said, the look on Sara's face enough to make him stop the conversation. "We need to get back to work or we won't have time for happy hour on Friday – we'll all be working over."

"Except Sara," Alex said, still staring at her. "She has plans."

"Yes," Tom said. "All the more reason we need to get as much done as possible before she leaves."

* * *

"I'll take the body," Grissom said as they pulled back into the lab parking lot, having left Nick and Warrick in charge of the scene.

"No, I'll do it," Catherine said, her determination evident.

Grissom parked the car and looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Are you sure? The box needs to be processed, too."

"You take the box," she replied. "I've got the body."

"Cath –"

"Gil, someone killed that beautiful little girl," she said with a catch in her voice. "It's not that I don't trust you with everything in me, but I want to get this guy."

Grissom held her eyes for a long minute. "You need to stay detached."

"I know."

"I mean it, Cath."

"I _know_, Gil."

He sighed and nodded. "I'll process the box as soon as you and David are done with it."

* * *

"All right, guys, I'm out of here," Sara said as she hung up her lab coat. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you," Leo said, barely looking up from his work.

"Bye," Claire and Alex said in unison, both looking at her with the same stunned looks they had been wearing all day.

"I'll walk out with you," Tom said, getting up to hang his own lab coat. "Bye, everyone."

Their coworkers' goodbyes followed them out the door.

"I get that Alex needs to stay later than you to impress you, but what's up with Leo and Claire?" Sara asked as they left.

"Dedication," Tom said with a shrug. "Hey, Sar … I'm sorry about what happened today."

"Sorry?" she repeated.

"Yeah," Tom said, running his hand through his hair uncomfortably. "I shouldn't have put you out there like that with Claire and Alex. It wasn't right of me to do that. I really am sorry."

Sara shrugged. "It's all right."

"It's all right?" he asked, stunned. "I thought you'd want to take my head off for that!"

"I did, in the moment," she said. "But … well … I guess they were going to find out eventually, right? I do try to keep as much of my personal life out of work as possible, but all it would take is one question about what Grissom does and they would put it together." She smiled slightly. "You have to admit, we do work with some intelligent people."

"Yeah, you're right," Tom said. "Still … I'm sorry."

"It _is_ all right," Sara said. "But, thank you for apologizing. That was really sweet of you."

He smiled. "Stop. You're going to make me blush."

Sara laughed at that. "Impossible."

He grinned as they reached their cars. "I'll see you tomorrow, Sara."

"Good night."

Sara climbed into her car and exhaled. She was still mildly irritated with Tom for announcing her relationship with a coworker – _at least he didn't specify a supervisor,_ was her only positive thought – to her new coworkers. Even so, she had been telling the truth: she knew they would find out eventually.

"At least this time, I can't lose anything over it," she sighed, looking at her partial reflection in her rearview mirror.

Shaking her head slightly, she started her car. She was more than ready to leave for the day.

* * *

Perhaps not surprising, Sara was still thinking of Grissom when she got home. Looking at the clock, she knew that he was likely sleeping. Unwilling to wake him before his shift, she settled for sending him a text message.

_I love you._

* * *

Grissom stood in the layout room, staring at the photos of the little girl that Catherine had dubbed "Baby Cordelia" after the street on which she had been found. The images were, at best, disturbing. Grissom sighed, and picked up a photo of the little girl as they had found her. He had taken the picture while they were still at the crime scene, though he barely remembered it out of the hundreds he had snapped. As he looked at it in the calm of the layout room, he focused on the scapular that was wound around her clasped hands as she lay in her box.

Catherine walked into the room and stopped next to him. Even without looking away from the picture, Grissom could immediately tell how upset she was. Her entire being radiated her anger, frustration and sorrow.

"Got something?" she asked when he didn't look up.

"Jude," he said, showing her the photo. "Patron saint of the desperate."

"Yeah," Catherine said, a touch of humor finding its way into her voice. "He's got an alibi."

Grissom finally looked at her and gave her a half smile.

"Who abuses and murders a child, and then tenderly wraps them in a blanket and leaves them in a parking lot?" Catherine asked.

"The disposition of the body suggests contrition," Grissom said, putting the photo back in its place on the table. "Or, remorse, even."

"Kidnapping gone wrong?" Catherine suggested. "Except, if she'd been taken, her parents would have come forward."

"Not necessarily," Grissom said. "Maybe she was taken a while ago … grabbed somewhere else and dumped here. Maybe her parents have stopped looking for her."

"Unless the parents are involved," Catherine said.

As she painted a picture of an abusive father and guilt-wracked mother, Grissom couldn't help but feel that Catherine had already decided what she wanted to find in this case. Even though she mentioned other theories, Grissom knew that she truly believed that the child had been a victim of abusive parents. He was on the verge of reminding her to follow the evidence and retain her perspective when Hodges walked in, file in hand.

"Got your chemical burn agent," he said. "It's sodium hydroxide."

Hodges gave a description of how the same product that had burned the little girl would remove a clog from a drain, then turned his attention to the photos on the table. He exhaled and picked up the nearest one.

"It's hard to believe that anyone could do something like this to such a beautiful little girl," he said.

Disgust crossed Catherine's face. "So, if she had been plain, or homely, it'd be easier for you to accept?"

"No," Hodges said slowly, putting the picture down again.

Watching him, Grissom knew he was choosing his words carefully. _Tread lightly, Hodges_, he wanted to say. _You've got her anger up already_.

"Maybe it's just me," he finally said, "but when something like this happens to a kid with a face like that, it just seems a little more tragic."

"Maybe that'll work in our favor," Catherine said. Taking the file with Hodges' chemical results, she left the room.

Hodges watched her go, then turned to look at Grissom. "Did I just piss her off?"

"Yeah," Grissom acknowledged. "But, she was heading that way when she came in."

Hodges nodded slightly, turned to leave, then turned back. "Is she … okay?"

"No," Grissom said. "But, she'll make it."

"Are you?"

Grissom looked at him in surprise.

"I know you don't like to deal with dead kids," Hodges said simply.

"None of us likes dealing with dead kids," Grissom said. "But, I'm fine."

"Good." With a slight smile, Hodges left Grissom alone with his crime scene photos.

Exhaling a long breath, Grissom braced both his hands on the table for a moment. Then, he reached into his pocket and took out his phone, fumbling with the touchscreen until he found his most recently-received text message.

_Message from: Sara_

_I love you._

He smiled. How could he not be fine? His Sara would be home in just a few days.

* * *

"Tom told me what happened at work the other day," Mary said as she and Sara sat down in what was quickly becoming their favorite café to meet at for lunch on a work day.

Sara smiled slightly. "Is he still wracked with guilt for outing me?"

Mary grinned. "Yeah, something like that."

"He's being ridiculous. Like I told him, they were bound to find out sometime." Sara shook her head. "Besides, I dated a coworker. It's not like I broke an actual law."

Their conversation was interrupted as they placed their orders. Once their waiter was gone, Mary shook her head.

"Grissom wasn't just a _coworker_ you know …"

"I know, I know. He was my supervisor, my teacher, my mentor … I'm sure we can work in some psychological father-figure issues if you really want to make me feel dirty …"

Mary laughed. "I don't want to do that. Besides, I know that you and Grissom are a great couple. It's not dirty, and I don't think you have daddy issues. People just … meet in different ways, that's all. You can't help who someone is when you fall for them."

Sara smiled. "I like that. Thanks, Mar."

Mary returned the smile. "And, as for Tom, I think he's worried because he knows how careful you and Grissom were to hide everything from your coworkers in Las Vegas."

"That was about self-preservation, not some insane sense of privacy," Sara said. "Well, I mean, we are both very private people, so there never would have been a grand announcement in any case, but …" She shrugged. "It wasn't allowed, so we didn't tell anyone. That's all. Once the news was out, I had to leave our shift."

"Right," Mary said.

"Can you please try to explain that to Tom?" Sara asked. "I told him that it wasn't a big deal, but I don't think he believed me."

"Obviously not, if he's still upset about it," Mary said, chuckling. "He truly thought he upset you."

"In the moment, he did," Sara said. "I think I gave him a death look when he said it. That's probably why he's still freaking out."

"A death look from you would get me," Mary said, laughing.

Their conversation was interrupted again as their waiter brought their food. Silence fell for a moment, only to be broken by Mary.

"So, are you packed?"

Sara shook her head as she took a bite of her salad.

"Seriously?" Mary's fork stopped midway to her mouth. "You always pack weeks in advance!"

Sara swallowed her food and smiled. "I do not pack _weeks_ in advance. I don't have enough clothes to do something like that."

"You know what I mean. Sara! You leave in _three days_! How can you not be ready to go?"

"I guess … I'm just not ready." She looked into her salad for a moment, then looked up, her face full of sorrow. "Mar, I'm not sure I'm ready to go at all," she said, her voice just above a husky whisper.

"Oh, Sara …" Mary reached across to touch her hand. "Don't think like that."

"How can I not? The last time I was there I testified against Natalie."

"_Successfully_," Mary said empathetically. "She can't hurt you anymore, Sara. And, when you did that, you proved exactly how strong you are."

"I don't know about that," Sara said quietly, thinking of the nightmares that had plagued her during the trial. She drew a deep breath. "Mary, the last time I was there … I couldn't do it. I had horrific nightmares, I was an emotional wreck, I made terrible relationship decisions …"

"What do you mean?" Mary asked. "You and Grissom are solid."

"Yeah," Sara said, smiling slightly. "It was just … weird."

"Sara, what are you getting at?"

"Right after Natalie was found guilty, we started talking about the future, about what we want, and … We decided to try for a baby."

Mary's eyes widened in shock.

"It didn't happen, obviously, but it was a short-lived attempt. It was something we decided in a moment of euphoria, and, before we could really get into the whole thing, I started falling apart again." She looked away, then met Mary's eyes again. "I ended up here."

Mary grabbed her hand. "What scares you about going back there, Sara? Is it still Natalie? Is it the life you had? Is it the future?"

"Yes," Sara nearly whispered.

"Which one?"

"All of them." She felt tears filling her eyes. "Natalie and all the memories wrapped up in that night … in that entire investigation, really …" She wiped at her eyes. "We were so … _casual_ about it at first. I remember looking at that first miniature in Izzy Delancy's kitchen, telling Grissom that I thought that Malibu Barbie had killed him."

Mary smiled.

"I didn't take her seriously enough, Mary. Then, when it was over and I was back at work, everything became _so_ serious to me. It was like I was trying to make up for what I had said, how I had felt … My job became impossible."

"You're not going back to work, Sara. You're going to visit Grissom and your friends for a long weekend."

"Grissom …" She blinked back new tears. "I want a life with him, Mary. I want a future with him. I'm just so scared of what that means."

Mary smiled. "It can mean anything you want it to mean."

Sara looked away. "I don't know what I want anymore."

"Do you even want to go to Vegas this weekend?" Mary asked slowly.

Sara shook her head and finally met Mary's eyes again. "I don't know, Mary. I really don't."


	40. Release

A/N: How have I been away from this story for so long? I'm so sorry about that! I hope this update makes it up to you!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Minimal inspiration is taken from episode 901, "For Warrick."

* * *

_Release_

Sara felt very emotional as she made her way back to work after her lunch with Mary. Admitting to someone else how nervous she was about going back to Vegas had forced her to analyze her feelings – and, made her even more confused than she had been.

She loved Grissom with everything in her. She wanted to see him and to spend time with him, even if it just was for a weekend. And, Greg was one of her best friends. Being there to celebrate his birthday meant a great deal to her.

She just was not entirely sure that those reasons for wanting to go to Vegas could overshadow her fear of being in Vegas again.

She walked into the lab, hoping to bury herself in her work. She wondered if deciding not to go would mean that she should go in to work on the days she had already taken off for her trip. It would probably be a good idea, if for no other reason than to take her mind off … things.

As she turned the corner and opened the door to what was feeling more and more like _her_ lab, Sara's cell phone vibrated. She fished it out of her purse and flipped it open to see a new text message.

_Message from: Grissom_

_Tough week. Can't wait to see you. Flight still arriving at 10AM?_

Sara sighed and pressed her phone against her lips. She couldn't remember the last time Grissom had come so close to admitting that he needed her support. Ever since her night in the desert, she had been the one taking support from him on a constant basis, with very little reserve to give back. After all that she had put him through, she realized that it was her turn to be the strong one for him.

She pressed the button to reply to his message.

_Yes. I'll see you then. I love you._

His reply came within moments.

_I love you, too._

"Hey!" Claire said as she came into the lab, nearly knocking into Sara. "Who stops that close to a door?"

"Sorry," Sara said. "Text message."

Claire rolled her eyes. "You couldn't wait until you moved past the door to reply?"

Sara smiled. "No," she said. "I couldn't."

Claire smiled back. "Must be a text from your man."

"Yeah," Sara said, blushing as she grinned.

"Look, I don't know your story," Claire said. "But, if just texting him makes you light up like that, he must be pretty special. I fully expect to see pictures of the two of you when you get back from your trip."

Sara smiled. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

It was cold when Mary arrived at Sara's apartment on Thursday morning. Sara zipped up her jacket while Mary wheeled her suitcase toward the door.

"You know what I'm really excited about for this trip?" Sara asked.

"Seeing Grissom?" Mary asked with a smile.

"It's going to be _warm_ in Vegas."

Mary laughed. "Wimp."

"Proudly."

They took Sara's suitcase to Mary's car, loaded it in the trunk and buckled themselves in. Mary laughed as Sara turned on the heater on her seat.

"You do realize that it's not _that_ cold, right?"

"You do realize that I lived in Las Vegas for eight years, right?" Sara shook her head as she rubbed her hands together, trying to generate some heat. "It's _spring_, for goodness' sake! It shouldn't be this cold!"

Mary smiled and shook her head. "Welcome back to New England, Sara."

"Yeah, yeah."

"So," Mary said as she pulled out of the parking lot, "you're going back."

"I'm going back for a visit," Sara amended.

"For a visit," Mary agreed. "What changed your mind?"

"I don't know that it was ever really changed one way or the other."

"You know what I mean," Mary said. "The last time I talked to you, you weren't sure of anything about this trip."

"I know," Sara said. "Then, right after lunch that day, I got a text from Grissom."

"What did he say?"

"That he was having a tough week, and couldn't wait for me to get home." She smiled sadly. "He needs me, Mar. I have to be there for him." She shook her head. "He must have had a really tough case this week."

"He _always_ needs you, tough case or not," Mary said quietly. "We always need the people we love."

"What are you saying?" Sara asked, stunned by her friend's choice of words. "That I should move back to Vegas to be with him?"

"I'm not saying that," Mary said. "I'm not _not_ saying that, either."

Sara rolled her eyes. "You language people can be _so_ annoying."

"Look, Sara, you and Grissom love each other. And, as you've said yourself more than once, you don't have a traditional relationship. You never have. So, if you're meeting each other's needs – and I don't necessarily mean that in the most vulgar way – with this long distance relationship, then, good for you. But, if what you both need is to be together more permanently, then, make that happen."

Sara sighed and looked out the window. "I don't even know what he needs from me," she confessed quietly. "I've spent almost a year leaning on him so hard that I haven't had a chance to let him lean back."

"Well, then, this trip might be exactly the time to let him lean on you for a while."

"Yeah," Sara said, smiling. "That's exactly what I intend to do."

* * *

Sara and Grissom somehow managed to see one another in baggage claim at almost exactly the same moment. They crossed to meet each other with identical beaming smiles. When they met in the middle, Sara dropped her bags so that she could wrap her arms around Grissom's neck. He held her tightly, burying his face in her hair. After a long moment, he pulled back enough to kiss her. Sara smiled against his lips as she broke the kiss.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," he replied. "How was your flight?"

"Fine." She looked at him critically, a bit alarmed by the circles under the blue eyes that somehow weren't reflecting the smile that tugged at his lips. She was stunned by how utterly exhausted he seemed. She suddenly felt guilty for ever considering not coming to visit him. "How are _you_?"

He sighed and looked away briefly. "Tough week," he finally said, bringing his eyes back to her face.

Sara ran her hand over his smooth cheek. "Tell me about it?"

"Not here." He smiled and kissed her again. "I want to take you home."

"I want that, too."

* * *

If Sara thought that Grissom would want to talk when they got home, she was mistaken. He began kissing her as soon as they were through the door, tugging her to the bedroom almost before she could put down her jacket.

"Hold on," she laughed. "I'm not going anywhere."

His already sad eyes darkened. "For a few days," he said quietly.

Sara reached up to touch his cheek. "I'm right here, Gil," she said softly. "I'm right here with you."

He grabbed her hand, bringing it around to plant a kiss in her palm. Then, moving slowly, he began to walk backwards, still holding her hand as he pulled her toward the bedroom. She smiled almost shyly, never taking her eyes from his.

"I love you," he sighed as he closed the bedroom door behind them.

"I love you, too."

* * *

Cuddled in bed together, Sara felt Grissom's fingers slipping through her damp hair.

"You cut your hair," he said.

She nodded against his chest. "About time you noticed."

He chuckled. "I noticed as soon as I saw you. I just thought we had other things to talk about."

Sara shifted so she could look at him. "Talk about?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you want me to say? That I'm a horny bastard who was working too hard to get you in bed to compliment your hair?"

"Not exactly…but, I'd say it's a pretty reasonable story, given the evidence."

He smiled and pulled her even closer. "I like it," he whispered against her hair.

"Good. I do, too."

"Do you, really?"

"Why would you say it like that?"

"Because, in all the years I've known you, I've never seen your hair this short."

Sara smiled. "It was pretty traumatic at first. But, I'm getting used to it now."

Silence fell for a moment as Grissom continued to play with Sara's hair.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

Sara gave him an impish smile. "If I say no, will you try to tire me out?"

He winked. "I was thinking we could take Hank to the park."

Sara raised her eyebrows. "Aren't you tired?" she asked. "You're the one who worked overnight, not me."

"I'm fine."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure, Mom," he said. "What do you say? Are you up for a trip to the park?"

Sara nodded with a smile. "Let's go."

* * *

Taking the dog to the park was exactly what Sara needed. It felt wonderful to shed the heavy clothes she had been wearing in Boston in favor of a sleeveless top and jeans.

"This was a great idea," she said, throwing Hank's ball for him to chase. "I feel better already."

"You should get one of those lamps to give you artificial sunlight," Grissom said. "It gets too dismal in New England."

Sara smiled. "I think I'll make it without one. I did survive four years there in college."

"Yes," he agreed.

Hank brought the ball back, and Sara threw it for him again.

"She was a baby," Grissom said abruptly, staring straight ahead, his eyes not seeing Hank pick up his ball.

Sara turned to him. "What? Who was a baby?"

"Our last vic," he said, still looking at Hank without seeing him. "Catherine and I worked the case – Nick and Greg helped. She was just a toddler."

Sara grabbed his hand, but he didn't turn to look at her.

"She died because her brother and sister wanted to play hide and seek while their father slept," Grissom continued. "They helped her hide under the kitchen sink – they said it was the best hiding place. She hit her head and burned herself on drain cleaner." He finally turned to look at Sara with sorrowful eyes. "She died before her father could take her to the hospital. He wrapped her up in a blanket and left her body in a box in a parking lot. And … he ran."

Sara tightened her grip on his hand.

"Catherine … didn't handle it well. Not from the very first."

"No one handles cases with kids well," Sara said. "Not even you. Especially not you."

"I knew I could make it through," he said, giving her a small smile. "I knew you'd be here today. That made it easier."

Sara exhaled and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm always here for you."

Grissom held her tightly, drawing from her strength. "It is so good to have you home."

* * *

Sitting on the deck with a glass of orange juice in her hand and Hank lounging next to her, Sara couldn't help but feel content. She had been dreading the trip so much that she was surprised to discover that she had been incredibly relaxed during her first twenty-four hours in Las Vegas.

"Good morning," Grissom said as he stepped out onto the deck.

"Hi," Sara said, looking up. "I didn't expect to see you so soon."

Grissom leaned over to kiss her, then sat down in the chair beside hers. "I left on time."

Sara smiled. "How did that go over?"

"Catherine actually told me to go home. She said I looked tired, and that she wanted me well-rested for the party tonight."

Sara grinned. "I can't wait for that."

"I'm excited, too."

Sara studied him carefully. "You don't look excited. Are you too tired? Would you rather stay home and rest? Greg doesn't even know I'm here, so it's not like it would ruin his party if we didn't show."

Grissom smiled roguishly. "I would certainly rather stay home with you … but, not to rest."

Sara rolled her eyes. "You'd miss Greg's party so that we can spend an evening in bed?"

"You wouldn't?"

Sara laughed. "I love you. I spent a lot of hours in flight to see you. But, to be honest … it's been a long time since I saw everyone else. I'd really like to see them."

Grissom winked. "Well, you can't blame me for trying."

"I thought you were over this anti-social behavior."

"I usually am."

"Good." Sara looked at him again. "Seriously, Gil, are you tired? Do you need …?"

"I _am_ tired," he admitted. "But, I have a feeling it has more to do with not getting enough sleep before my shift than anything."

Sara leaned over to kiss him. "Get some sleep. You'll need your energy to carry that giant present you got Greg into Catherine's house."

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "I was hoping I could convince Greg's present to walk into the house on her own."

Sara laughed. "We'll see, dear."

"In that case, maybe I should go to bed." Grissom stood up. "Care to join me?"

Sara smiled. "Sure."

* * *

Grissom carefully watched the time as they got ready for the party. He wanted to make sure that they would arrive after everyone else.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Sara asked as she put on her necklace. "Do you think they'll be worried about you?"

"Why would they be?" Grissom asked.

"Well, you're not usually late for things."

"I'm not usually late for _work_," Grissom amended. "This is a party."

Sara rolled her eyes. "You're right. They'll be more convinced that you decided not to show."

"Which will make it all the more exciting when I do."

Smiling, Sara shook her head, and looked at her watch. "I think we're safe to leave now."

Realizing how much she wanted to see their friends, Grissom nodded. "Let's go."

* * *

"Stay behind me," Grissom cautioned as he rang Catherine's door bell.

"I know," Sara said, ducking behind him.

"You made it!" Catherine exclaimed as she opened the door. "Looks like I owe Warrick a beer."

"Thanks for the confidence in me, Cath."

"Anytime."

Greg appeared as Catherine opened the door wider.

"Hey, Griss," he said. "Thanks for coming to my birthday party."

"I'm sorry that I'm late," Grissom said. "I had to make sure your present was ready."

"You didn't have to get me anything," Greg said, grinning in anticipation of a present that Grissom needed to "get ready."

"I think you'll like it," Grissom said. He stepped aside, revealing Sara.

"Happy birthday!" Sara exclaimed.

"Sara!" Greg threw his arms around her. "You're my present?"

"Looks like," she said, laughing as Greg picked her up off the ground. "Put me down!"

"This is the best birthday present ever!"

As soon as Greg had released her, Catherine grabbed Sara into a tight hug.

"I can't believe it!" Catherine exclaimed. "Grissom! You didn't tell anyone!"

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise," he said, grinning.

"Come on," Catherine said. "Everyone's out back."

She led them through her house to her backyard, where Nick was manning the grill while Warrick kept him company. Across the yard, Sara could see a fire pit that had let to be ignited.

"We're roasting marshmallows after dinner," Catherine said. "Lindsey insisted."

"Is she here?" Sara asked.

"She and her friends are in her room," Catherine said. "They promised to come down for dinner." She paused and stared at Sara. "Dinner! I didn't know you'd be here! I don't have anything vegetarian for you!"

"Don't worry about it," Sara said. "I can do side dishes and marshmallows."

"I'll look in the kitchen and see if I can find something for Nick to throw on the grill."

At the sound of his name, Nick looked up. "Sara?" he exclaimed. "Are you kidding me?"

Sara laughed and nearly ran across to hug him. Nick, like Greg, grabbed her in a bear hug that lifted her feet from the ground. Unlike Greg, he swung her around in a circle before setting her down.

"I didn't know you'd be here!"

"I'm Greg's birthday surprise," she said.

Nick looked from Sara to the grinning Grissom. "Looks like the boss is into giving good gifts this year. Will you bring her home for my birthday, too?"

"I'll see what I can do."

As soon as Nick let her go, Warrick pulled Sara into a tight hug. When he released her, he looked at her for a long moment.

"How are you?" he asked. "Sleeping better?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling. "You?"

He grinned. "Much."

Sara hugged him again. "I've missed you." She looked around at the others. "All of you."

"We've missed you, too, darlin'," Nick said.

"Sara, I just found a black bean veggie burger in my freezer," Catherine said as she came back outside. "I have no idea how long it's been there. Wanna give it a try?"

"Sure," Sara said, laughing. "If Nick can grill it, I'll eat it."

"Great." Catherine handed the patty to Nick, who shook his head as he tossed it on the grill.

"My parents would _kill_ me if they knew I was grilling for a vegetarian."

"Sorry, cowboy," Sara said.

Nick winked at her.

"I still can't believe you're here!" Greg said. "When did you get in?"

"Yesterday morning."

Catherine rounded on Grissom. "So _that's_ why you didn't fight me when I told you to go home today! You knew Sara was there!"

Grissom smiled. "Catherine. After all these years of telling me to get a life, are you honestly upset with me for doing so?"

She laughed. "No. I guess I'm just upset that you didn't tell me what was going on."

"Hey," Warrick said with a grin, "if there's one thing we've all learned, it's that Griss can keep a secret like no one – except maybe Sara."

They all laughed as Catherine went to get drinks for Grissom and Sara.

"Sit down," Warrick said, reclaiming his seat at the table. "Nick has already informed me about ten times that he doesn't need help. I guess no one from outside of Texas has any grilling ability at all."

"Warrick, my man, you are a city boy," Nick said. "You _don't_ have any grilling ability."

"So, Sara, tell us about Boston," Greg said. "What's it like working in a lab that doesn't deal with crime?"

"Serene," Sara said with a smile. "It's really … calm."

"By 'calm,' do you mean 'boring'?" Warrick asked. "I think I'd go nuts working in a place that you can describe as 'serene.'"

"Well," Sara said, "we do go out for happy hour on most Fridays."

"I'm in," Greg said with a grin.

Sara laughed. "Actually, we have a grad student working with us who really reminds me of you, Greg."

"Good to know that I'm not forgotten," he said, giving her a mega-watt smile.

"No," Sara said with a bittersweet smile. "None of you are."

* * *

Lindsey and her two friends, Stephanie and Jennifer, were called down for dinner. Before they could make an attempt at taking their plates and retreating into the house, Catherine pulled chairs up to the table for them. Sara and Nick caught each other's eye, but quickly looked away before they could laugh.

"This is very cool that you're here, Sara," Lindsey said as she sat down. "You came all this way for Greg's birthday?"

"Apparently, Uncle Gil forgot to buy me a present," Greg said with a wink at Sara. "So, he got me Sara instead."

"Wait …" Lindsey said, rounding on Grissom. "You're not really giving Greg your girlfriend, are you, Uncle Gil?"

Grissom choked on his drink. "No," he said when he recovered. "I just brought her to the party to visit him. She's coming home with me."

Sara blushed at the implications. "Do we really need to have this conversation?"

Nick laughed at the look on her face. "All right, Sara. So, you've told us that the lab in Boston is boring. What do you do for fun?"

"Well, we went ice skating a couple times this winter."

"I love ice skating!" Stephanie exclaimed.

"We go outside there," Sara said. "It's really cool."

"Outside?" Jennifer squeaked. "How cold does it get?"

Sara laughed. "_Really_ cold. It hasn't even warmed up yet. I was carrying a coat with me when I got off the plane."

"I was thinking that you were nuts for wearing that sleeveless top," Catherine said. "But, I'll bet you're thrilled that it's this warm."

"It's like heaven," Sara said, noting that she was the only one who wasn't wearing a top with long sleeves or, as in Greg's case, a jacket.

"Hey!" Lindsey's eyes lit up. "Since you're here, Sara … we should do a group picture! I'll take one of all six of you."

"That would be great, Linds," Sara said with a smile. "I don't have a recent picture of all of us."

"I just got a new camera," she said. "I'll take the picture, and then I can send it to everyone."

"After dinner," Catherine said.

Lindsey rolled her eyes. "Duh, Mom. I wasn't going to do it now."

Catherine shook her head. Nick and Sara again looked away from each other quickly, both biting their cheeks to keep from laughing.

* * *

As soon as the dishes had been cleared away, Lindsey ran to her room to collect her new camera. She raced back into the yard with it in her hand.

"Okay, picture time!" she said. "Line up!"

Grinning at her enthusiasm, the six adults got into a line and threw their arms around each other.

"Ready?" Lindsey asked. "Say cheese!"

Three tries later, Lindsey declared that she had the perfect picture for them. She passed her camera around, letting everyone have a look.

Sara smiled as she looked at the picture. Lindsey was right. It was perfect.


	41. Limbo

A/N: Returning to this story is a little holiday gift to myself! I hope you'll enjoy this one – it definitely does _not_ have a holiday spirit to it.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Limbo_

"Did you have fun at the party?"

Sara grinned as Grissom unlocked the door. "Yeah," she said. "Did you?"

He nodded and opened the door, standing aside to let her enter ahead of him. "Greg was surprised, wasn't he? To see you there?"

"_Everyone_ was," Sara replied. "You're a good secret keeper."

"We all have talents." Grissom closed the door. "The team misses you, too," he said quietly as he tossed his keys on the table. "I think they want to see you almost as much as I do."

Sara turned to look at him. The raw sadness in his eyes stunned her. She closed the space between them and put her hands on his cheeks. "I love you," she said, looking deeply into his eyes. "You know that, right?"

"Of course I do," Grissom replied, his hands finding her hips. "I love you, too."

"Even when I'm far away … Gil, you're the most important person in my life."

Grissom leaned forward to give her the gentlest of kisses, then took her hands in his and led her to the couch. He sat down, tugging her with him. Sara willingly joined him, cuddling up against him.

"Do you know why I moved to Las Vegas?" Grissom asked.

Sara frowned. "No," she said at last. She sat up to look at him. "I'm sorry I never asked. Will you tell me?"

"I wanted to start a body farm," Grissom said.

Sara smiled indulgently. "Of course you did."

"But, I lacked funding," Grissom said. "My mother had already told me she wanted no part of it, so I couldn't get a loan from her. I had just finished my PhD, so I had more student loans than I care to think about; there was no way a bank would finance me. So, I came to Vegas in the hopes of winning the money for it."

Sara stared at him. Her scientific, cautious, steady man had moved to Las Vegas to gamble his way into money?

"I had a girlfriend at the time … we had been dating for about a year when I decided to move here. She came with me." He shook his head as though still baffled by her decision. "Her name was Rebecca."

"Was she a scientist, too?"

"No," he replied. "She was a nurse. She found a job here easily enough."

Sara nodded. "Did you love her?"

"I thought I did," Grissom said with a sad smile. He reached out to touch Sara's cheek. "I actually did very well at poker. Everything that I won beyond what I needed for my living expenses went into my savings for the body farm – and into some experiments of my own."

"So, you used gambling for a noble cause?"

Grissom winked at her. "I like to think so."

"Well, I know you got the body farm going."

He nodded. "Yes. I did what I intended. But, I lost Rebecca in the process."

"How?"

Grissom took her hand and started playing with her fingers. "The same way I nearly lost you: I was married to my work. I kept pouring all my money into science, and none into her. I put all my time – all of myself – into the body farm, into experiments … I'm sure it's not easy for a woman to take a backseat to that."

Sara smiled sadly. "It comes with the territory."

"You knew me as a scientist," he said. "She knew me as a grad student. She didn't mind me spending long hours in the library or the lab when it was part of my larger plan to get my PhD. But, when I graduated, she thought that I'd spend more time with her. That I'd put more into our relationship. But …"

"It didn't work that way."

"No." He sighed. "She came over to break up with me, and …" He shook his head. "I was reading when she got to my apartment. I remember what I was reading – it was Jean Rostand's _Thoughts of a Biologist_."

"Wow, Griss," Sara said. "You actually remember what book you were reading? I didn't think you had such sentimentality in you."

He smiled. "I remember because when she left, I picked up the book again. The next line where I had been reading said, 'To be an adult is to be alone.' Until I met you, I thought it was true."

Sara's breath caught in her throat.

"With you in my life, Sara, that's just not true. Even when we're three thousand miles apart, I know that I'm never alone."

* * *

"What time does your flight leave?"

"Noon."

Grissom sighed and pulled her closer to him. Sara laid her head on his bare chest, and pulled the blankets snugly around them.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"For what?"

"For putting you through this."

Grissom sighed again. "Sara, I'd be lying if I said that I didn't care that you're leaving. I do care. Very much. But, your happiness matters more to me than …" He drew a deep breath. "I meant what I said earlier. We're always together in our hearts."

She pressed a kiss against his chest. "You could come to visit me."

"I will," Grissom promised. "I'll have to work it out at the lab, though. I won't be able to come next week."

"No," Sara agreed. "But, this summer, maybe?"

"Yeah," Grissom agreed.

"Or … we could go somewhere else," Sara said. "Somewhere … far away from work. From our lives. From everything."

"Mmm," Grissom hummed, tightening his hold on her. "Sounds nice. Where do you have in mind?"

"The Galapagos Islands," Sara said without hesitation.

"You've been thinking about this."

"Not really." She smiled wistfully. "But, when I think of getting away from everything, I think of being somewhere pristine, somewhere … that time forgot."

"Okay," Grissom agreed. "We'll go."

Sara smiled. "Good."

* * *

"I'm going to miss you," Grissom said, squeezing Sara's hand.

Sara looked at him for a moment, then dropped her luggage to hug him tightly. Grissom wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, trying to imprint the feel of her body in his memory.

Sara broke the hug and pressed her lips against his. When she pulled back, tears stood in her eyes.

"Thank you," she nearly whispered.

"For what?"

"For letting me leave," she said. "I know it's not ideal, and I know it's not what we want, but …"

Grissom shook his head. "I want you to be happy." A shadow crept into his eyes. "And, right now, that's not something you can do here."

Sara shook her head. "No. But … someday …"

Grissom smiled and fold her hand into his. He pulled their joined hands to his lips and pressed a kiss against hers. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Sara smiled. "You'll let me know, right? When you can take time off for our trip?"

Grissom smiled. "To the Galapagos."

"To the Galapagos," Sara repeated.

"I can't wait to see you on an island. The sun and sand in your hair …"

Sara raised an eyebrow. "I thought we were going to see the natural beauty."

Grissom brushed a curl behind her ear. "We are."

Sara blushed, and leaned in to kiss him again. "I have to go."

"I know. Text me when you get to Boston."

"I will." She kissed him again. "I'll see you when I see you."

He hugged her tightly. "I'll see you when I see you," he repeated.

Pressing a kiss against her hair, Grissom released her. With one last lopsided smile, Sara picked up her bags and made her way through the security gates. Grissom watched her go, his sense of loss nearly overwhelming him.

Sara turned back one last time, and raised her hand to wave to him. Grissom waved back, wishing more than anything that she would walk back through the gates, back into his arms.

She turned away and walked forward, disappearing from his sight.

* * *

"You're here early."

Grissom glanced up as Catherine walked into his office. "So are you."

She looked at the file open in front of him. "Did Sara leave today?"

"A few hours ago." He frowned. "Did she tell you she was leaving today?"

Catherine shook her head and indicated the file. "We closed that case a month ago."

Grissom shrugged slightly and closed the folder. Catherine sat down across from him.

"She seemed … good," she said.

"She is."

"Is she thinking about coming back?"

"She didn't mention it. We talked about taking a trip, though."

"No, I mean … is she thinking about coming back _permanently_?"

Grissom shook his head. "Not as far as I know."

"And … how do you feel about that?"

"I want her to be happy."

"Yeah, Gil, you keep saying that, but … What would make _you_ happy?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I think it does."

"Cath …"

"Look, it's your life," she said, holding up to her hands as if to fend off an attack. "I just want to make sure it's what you want."

"What I want," he repeated with a humorless smile. "Is this what I want? A relationship in limbo because a lunatic kidnapped the woman I love and left her for dead? No, Cath, that's not what I want. But …" He scrubbed his hands over his face. "I can't do anything to change the past. I just have to make the best of the present. And, if this limbo relationship is what it takes to keep Sara in my life, then that's what I want."

"You love her," Catherine said.

He nodded. "More than anything."

Catherine leaned across to squeeze his hand. "Hold her tightly, Gil. As tightly as she'll let you."

He nodded again. "I will."

Catherine looked at him closely. "There's something …"

He shook his head. "I can't …"

"You can't what?"

"Nothing."

"You're sure you're okay, Gil?"

He nodded. "Fine."

Catherine left, and it took everything in him not to call her back. He wanted desperately to be able to share the awful thoughts and feelings that had been weighing him down since Sara had waved goodbye …

But, he couldn't. He couldn't give a voice, and a life, to that which that made him feel unbearably guilty …

He couldn't bring himself to tell his best friend that he was exhausted. That supporting Sara through so much trauma had been the most draining experience of his life. That he just didn't know how much longer he would be able to do it.

His phone rang, bringing welcome relief from his heavy thoughts.

"Grissom."

"Hi, Gil," Brass said. "We've got a homicide."

"Great. Where?"

"Before I say another word, I have to tell you that this is going to be high-profile," Brass said. "We've got a dead actress."

Grissom exhaled. "Perfect."

Losing himself in his work would take him away from his personal problems like nothing else could. The actress could not have chosen a better time to be murdered.

* * *

"Welcome back!"

Sara smiled as she hugged Mary. "Did you miss me?" she teased.

"You have no idea."

Sara laughed at that. "I was only gone for a couple days!"

Mary squeezed her arm. "Doesn't matter. I still missed you. Come on, I'll take you out for dinner."

"Don't you have a family to feed?"

"At eight o'clock? Josie ate before I left; Tom should have her in bed by now. The two of them will be fine without me. Come on, let's go out."

Sara grinned. "Okay. Dinner it is."

* * *

"So, tell me about your trip."

Sara smiled. "It was nice. Surprising Greg was fun."

"Really? That's all you're going to give me?"

"You know I was happy to see Gil."

"Of course you were," Mary said. "But, before you left, you were … unsettled about your relationship. Did you find some clarity this weekend?"

Sara shrugged slightly. "I know that he loves me, and that I love him."

"You've known that for a long time now."

"Yeah," Sara said softly.

"So …"

Sara looked down at her salad. "It's … tough."

"What is?"

"Everything."

"What do you mean, Sara?" Mary asked slowly.

"I hate this," Sara said, looking up at her with tears shining in her eyes. "I hate knowing that he's there and I'm here and we're both miserable because of it. I hate that I'm not strong enough to go back there and live with him again. I hate that he won't ever leave that lab to be with me. I hate that I'm not strong enough to ask him to do it. I hate …" She shook her head, letting a tear fall. "I hate a lot of things right now."

Mary stared at her for a moment, then reached across to grip her hand. "I told you this before, Sara: If you're not happy, then you've got to make a change."

"What am I going to change?" Sara asked. "How can I possibly fix this? What can I do to move us out of this … relationship limbo … without destroying at least one of us?"

"Sar …"

She shook her head. "This life is not what makes me happy, Mary, but it makes me happy enough. I'd rather have him in my life like this than not have him in my life at all."

"Oh, Sara, I wish …"

Sara shook her head again. "There's no other way, Mary. This is how it has to be."

Mary squeezed her hand again. "For now."

Sara nodded. "For now."


End file.
